Plinkett's Poppers
by Onimiman
Summary: Another Star Wars-Plinkett fic, post-Crucible. Vestara and Mirta are recruited by Red Letter Media's Space Cop to infiltrate Mr. Plinkett's dancer bar, Plinkett's Poppers, so they can kill him.
1. Chapter 1

The Sith Meditation Sphere known as Ship dropped out of hyperspace on the edge of the Chiloon Rift, systems away from the Qreph brothers' Base Prime in the heart of the Rift. A few minutes later, it readied itself for yet another jump when it suddenly got hit in the side by a laser bolt.

The Meditation Sphere shook and rocked its two passengers inside, Vestara Khai and Mirta Gev.

"What was that?" Vestara asked.

_We are being attacked, Lady Khai!_ Ship responded urgently. _By a ship off to our side! __I am attempting evasive maneuvers, but..._

"What's going on?" Mirta asked.

Vestara hastily told the Mandalorian what Ship just informed her, and said to the Sphere, "Please, continue."

_I can't seem to move_, Ship replied with concern. _I believe that I am caught in a tractor beam_.

"Tractor beam?" Vestara asked. "Where's the ship that has us?"

Instead of answering telepathically, the Sith's question was answered with a puckering sound off to her and Mirta's left. The women turned their heads in that direction, where the bulkhead faded into transparency in order to act as a viewport. There, off in the distance, was a starfighter-sized vessel that looked as if it were a really old-fashioned Corellian car; one that had wheels. The car-like ship was facing them, and was now coming in. When it came close enough, Vestara and Mirta could see that, atop what looked like an engine hood, were painted, in blue, **SPD**, in auremesh.

"That's what's keeping us in a tractor lock?" Mirta asked no one in particular, disbelieving of the circumstance that she, Vestara, and Ship were all in.

_Unfortunately, it is_, Ship communed telepathically to Vestara. _And I can't seem to fire upon it, either_. Vestara then relayed the words to Mirta for her benefit.

"What does it want?" Mirta wondered aloud, keeping her sights fixed on the incoming vessel.

As if to answer her query, a portion of the deck in front of the Sith and Mandalorian opened up to raise a console, which was now beeping with a yellow light flashing; they were being hailed, the two women knew. So Mirta pressed the only button that was on the console.

"Hello, are there any women aboard?" a slightly nasally voice asked from the other end. It tried to sound deep and a little gravelly, but it failed easily.

Vestara and Mirta looked at each other briefly, with Vestara nodding. Mirta offered the Sith an inquisitive expression before turning back to the console and pressing the button to reply.

"There are two women aboard," the Mandalorian reported reluctantly. "Why, who is this?"

"I'm looking for agents who can infiltrate a titty bar, if you don't mind," the voice responded. "And my name... is Space Cop." It was obvious that his brief pause was for dramatic effect, as if he were a hero on a cliched holodrama.

Vestara and Mirta regarded the console before them as if it were the owner of the voice they were speaking to; and they looked at it as if it were a Gungun trying to be a scientist on par with a Givin.

"Space Cop?" Mirta asked with tired disbelief.

"Space Cop," the voice repeated with the same dramatic tone as before.

"You wanna take this?" Mirta asked Vestara.

Wordlessly, Vestara took the console. "Alright, Space Cop," she said, "why did you try to shoot at us originally?"

"Oh, yeah, sorry about that," Space Cop replied. "I hit the wrong button when I was just trying to tractor you."

"You hit the wrong button?" Mirta asked, retaking the console from Vestara. "We're supposed to believe that?"

"Yes, why?" Space Cop asked.

"That sounds oddly incompetent," Mirta remarked suspiciously. "And stupid."

"Hey, I had a hot dog in my hand, so I wasn't exactly in the best position to hit the tractor button to begin with!" Space Cop whined. "You have any idea how much of a mess is on the dashboard now when I hit the right button?!"

"You couldn't just set your... hot dog down?" Vestara asked, unfamiliar with what Space Cop was talking about.

"I don't have any cupholders!" Space Cop exclaimed. "The department won't allow that; last time we had cupholders, some moron went drunk, stoned, and hookerized in his car. I'm lucky I didn't get fired after that night!"

"So that moron was you?" Mirta asked.

There was a long pause. "Yes," he replied reluctantly.

"Does hookerize mean what I think it does?" Vestara asked her Mandalorian counterpart.

"If this guy's to be believed, I think it does," Mirta replied before hitting the button again. "Okay, Space Cop, what was it that you wanted from us again?"

"Do I really have to repeat myself?" Space Cop snorted. "Amateurs. Look, here's the lowdown; on Nar Shaddaa, there's this dancer's club called Plinkett's Poppers. This club is responsible for the disappearances of over a dozen of its employees, all of them the hottest and fuckablest strippers. The primary suspect is the bar's owner, Harry S. Plinkett. If you're hot enough, Plinkett'll accept you, and if you make it to get his attention, you can move in on him and kill him.

"So if you don't mind, I'd like to board your ship so I can do an inspection of your bodies."

Mirta pressed the reply button. "And how do we know you're not just a lying huckster trying to take advantage of gullible and stupid women?"

"Because if you pass my inspection, and agree to do this job," Space Cop said, "we split the cash we get from bustin' Plinkett three ways. Heh-heh, three ways. Heh-heh."

Vestara hit the reply button. "Wait, if you're a cop, wouldn't you wanna take this Plinkett character alive?"

"At this point, I'm operating outside my payroll," Space Cop replied. "We investigated Plinkett before, but we had no real solid evidence. But I know that son of a bitch is responsible for those missing and likely dead women. And I'm gonna take him down, no matter what it takes. With your help, of course."

Mirta took the console from Vestara. "Say, who exactly are you affiliated with?"

"The Space Police Department from the Milky Way galaxy, a galaxy far, far away from yours," Space Cop answered. "From the future, of space. I'm a cop, out of time, out of place, in a galaxy I don't understand."

"You time-traveled from the future?" Vestara asked, obviously disbelieving.

"Twice," Space Cop answered. "First from my own time, then to Plinkett's time. By then, he was kidnapping prostitutes on his homeworld, and with one of them, he fathered a being known as the Antichrist. Hence, I used a time travel device from my time created by a guy named John Connor to go back in time to stop Plinkett, only he managed to get a device from a cyborg race known as the Borg to head to this galaxy, traveling further back in time in the process. I managed to steal more of the Borg's technology to replicate the effect, and now we're here."

"So you did all that, but you didn't know where the button for your tractor lock on your own ship was?" Vestara asked in disbelief.

"Alright, fine, I admit it... It was a mutated gorilla man known as Simon Taggert who operated the time travel devices for me. He's actually working at Plinkett's Poppers as a bouncer."

Mirta looked at Vestara. "He's lying," the Mandalorian said. "Isn't he?"

"I don't know," Vestara answered. "I can't sense a presence from him through the Force."

"Really? Then either he has an ysalamari, or he could be a Yuuzhan Vong."

"Ysalamari? Yuuzhan Vong?" Vestara asked.

"Ysalamari are a bunch of animals that make Force-proof bubbles or something like that. The Yuuzhan Vong were extragalactic invaders defeated a little more than fifteen years ago," Mirta explained. "The Jedi couldn't sense them through the Force."

"Well, let's see if he is a Yuuzhan Vong," Vestara said before pressing the reply button. "Space Cop, you can board our vessel."

"What?!" Mirta exclaimed.

"There a problem?" Space Cop asked.

Vestara made a cutting motion with her hand to Mirta before returning her attention back to the console. "No, no problem. Just place your airlock anywhere against our hull; it'll make an opening."

"Yeah, that sounds reasonable," Space Cop replied before cutting off the communication.

As the car-like ship maneuvered so that the side that would house the driving seat headed for Ship, Mirta glared back at Vestara. "Are you out of your mind?"

"I think we can take this guy, even if he has an ysalamari, is a Yuuzhan Vong, or whatever," Vestara said. "Regardless, we need a way out, and Ship doesn't seem to be in any condition to help us out right now."

Mirta grimaced and sighed. "Alright, let's do this then."

Seconds later, the spot on Ship that Space Cop selected to park his car opened up to form a gap for the car-like vessel's airlock to connect with. The airlock soon opened up, and as Vestara and Mirta stood up, ready to confront the new arrival, a short, fat, light-skinned human male stepped through.

His outfit wasn't anything more than plain regular clothes that seemed drab even for someone who lived on Tatooine. The only things that made him stand out as a law enforcer in any sense were his wide sunglasses, his over-sized blue helmet, and a blue jacket. He was armed only with a giant rifle that neither Vestara or Mirta recognized upon seeing the weapon.

In short, he looked more like a fool than anything else, and his serious expression somehow made his appearance ever more comedic.

"You're eighteen, right?" Space Cop asked Vestara.

"Barely," the Sith answered plainly.

"Good enough," Space Cop said before broadening his attention to Mirta. "Okay, you both look good with your clothes on, so you'll pass the initial inspection at Plinkett's Poppers. Now strip down to your undies and see if you can make it to the finals, as it were."

Mirta quickly whipped out her handheld blaster from its holster on her belt and aimed it at Space Cop. "Or you could just let us go and we don't have to kill you."

Space Cop smirked. "Right. You do know that when I got a tractor lock on your eyeball ship here, I made sure that it would unleash a gas that would be deadly to females of any species to protect myself."

"Did your monkey man also do that for you?" Vestara mocked.

"Hey, he takes offense to whenever anyone calls him a monkey man," Space Cop said. "Last time someone did that, he shit out a baby monkey and threw it at the fucker's head."

"You're not convincing us of your legitimacy," Mirta pointed out. "Tell us why we should even get involved in this Plinkett business, aside from that whole money aspect."

"You're just shy, aren't you?" Space Cop asked. "Don't worry, it's not like I wanna see your clits or nipples or anything. In fact, vaginas actually kinda scare me; they make the Sarlacc on Tatooine look as comforting as a floppy dick."

"So you're gay?" Vestara asked.

"I don't care if he is, neither of us are stripping down for him," Mirta said, not shifting her aim from Space Cop.

"Sorry, I'm as straight as... as... shit, I got nothing," he said. "I could just boner, but I've already gone through one dick joke, I really don't wanna get repetitive."

Vestara placed her hand atop Mirta's weapon hand and lowered it. "Do you really have to see us in our underwear?"

Space Cop sighed. "If I say no, will you do the job?"

"I could," Vestara answered before looking up at the Mandalorian. "What about you?"

The Mandalorian stared at Space Cop for a long while before sighing in defeat. "How much will you pay us?"


	2. Chapter 2

The trip from the edge of the Chiloon Rift to Nar Shaddaa only took a few days for Ship and Space Cop's vessel to travel at their top hyperdrive speeds. Once they reached the system from which the Smugglers' Moon and its parent planet, Nal Hutta, orbited, Space Cop's car-like ship suddenly seemed to transform into that of a typical Corellian YT-2400 freighter.

Vestara and Mirta watched the transformation out of the makeshift viewport Ship made that kept watch on Space Cop's vessel even through hyperspace.

"At least this Plinkett won't recognize Space Cop following him," Mirta commented beside the Sith.

The same went for them, as they wouldn't attract attention in an organic-looking vessel like the Sith Meditation Sphere; thanks to an imaging device provided by Space Cop before they completely left the Chiloon Rift, Ship now appeared as a luxurious Kuati yacht that no one would suspect of any wrongdoing. Hence, that was why there was even less hassle on Ship rather than on the disguised car-like ship from the customs officers, who didn't go beyond looking at the exteriors of the ships.

Minutes later, the two vessels passed through the relatively lax customs checks to enter Nar Shaddaa's atmosphere and head for the city from which Plinkett's Poppers was located: New Vertica.

Vestara tapped the button on the control console to contact their male accomplice. "Space Cop, why is this bar called Plinkett's Poppers exactly?"

"Because a signature move that many of the dancers have to do is pop their titties out of their bras," Space Cop answered.

"That's it, I'm out," Mirta said. "Vestara, please take us out of here, I am not going to..."

"Get over yourself, we're getting paid for this, and we're gonna take this bastard down," Vestara said.

"Look, I can kill hundreds of innocent people if I have to, but there's a limit to what I'll do for credits," Mirta argued.

"Well, keep in mind," Space Cop's voice piped in, "you'll get some pretty good tips from the patrons there that'll make it worth your while."

Mirta shook her head disgustedly, but Vestara touched her on the crook of her elbow. "Listen, Mirta, you really wanna let this guy just walk? He's killing innocent women-"

"_Suspected_ of killing innocent women," Mirta interrupted. "And besides, it makes no difference to me. I honestly don't care if he's kidnapping and murdering small children, I am not going to do something like pop my breasts out of my bra just to bring this low-life down."

"Well, Mirta, you don't exactly have to be one of the dancers," Space Cop interjected. "You could just act as her lesbian lover and bodyguard."

"Why not just bodyguard?" Mirta asked.

"Too suspicious," Space Cop answered. "No twenty-year-old rich enough to have a bodyguard with no other relationship would apply to a nudy bar."

"So why not a relative, like a cousin or something?" Mirta asked.

"Huh," Space Cop said. "Never thought about that. But are we sure we don't wanna do the lesbian thing?"

"Doesn't seem necessary," Mirta argued stiffly. "Why?"

"Oh, nothing, nothing," Space Cop replied with a hint of disappointment to his tone. "I just wanted to have this fantasy..." His muttering trailed off.

"Wait, isn't a girl like myself not supposed to be traveling in a Kuati yacht?" Vestara asked.

"Hey, we're on the Smugglers' Moon, so I doubt anyone will mind if you said you _commandeered_ the yacht, as it were," Space Cop said. "And by commander, I mean stole it."

"Yes, we got that," Mirta said, irritated.

Soon, both ships settled down at a public parking port across the street from Plinkett's Poppers. After they exited their respective vessels and had their landing ramps locked back against the ships, they looked out across the street to the bar before them, which displayed a neon sign of a Twi'lek woman popping her breasts out of her bra; as well, her legs also spread out enough so that her panties snapped to reveal her vagina, all in an erotic dance. The sequence repeated itself over and over in five second intervals, with different colors.

Space Cop - dressed in plain civilian clothes identifying him as a Corellian in keeping with the false appearance of his ship, his hair and pupils dyed, and a beard matching the look of his hair- looked out at the repeating neon sequence with obvious desire, licking his lips and looking like he would start masturbating at any moment. Vestara and Mirta, on the other hand, looked at the sequence with obvious disgust, not even seeming to notice the exact opposite reaction from their male counterpart.

"Are you sure you wanna do this, Vestara?" Mirta asked. "Like I said, it really isn't worth it degrading yourself like this."

"Sometimes, a little self-degradation helps a lot of people, Mirta," Vestara replied with a tinge of doubt.

"Oh, c'mon, you're a Sith!" Mirta said. "Why would you even care? I certainly don't."

Vestara shrugged. "I maybe Sith, but I'm not completely evil. Maybe it might've been my time among the Jedi, I don't know, but one thing's for sure; I don't care much for establishments such as these. And if we take out Plinkett, we can wreck this place."

"Now, wait a minute, hold on," Space Cop said. "It's not a simple matter. You see, no one, and I mean absolutely no one, actually sees Plinkett. Even his second lieutenant, who actually runs the bar personally, doesn't know where he is, and only communicates with him on a channel that, if traced, will only lead to false locations every time; it's part of the Borg adaptation model he got when he stole their time travel device and the rest of the shit he took with them. The only time Plinkett will ever actually let anyone see him is if he wants to see the best dancer in the club."

"For sex," Vestara concluded.

"And all the missing victims just happened to be the best dancers prior to their disappearances," Mirta added.

"Exactly," Space Cop said. "Which is why we have to go through with this plan of Vestara here not only getting hired, but also to do the best she can and then some at her job. Essentially, she'll have to be the best dancer in the bar if she wants to get close to Plinkett and kill him."

"Which means she'll have to show off her breasts and vagina in her dance routines," Mirta said dejectedly.

"Hey, this is pretty much the only way to get Plinkett," Space Cop said in a way that didn't seem all that reassuring. "So let's go get you hired, Vestara."


	3. Chapter 3

It only took a few minutes for Vestara, Mirta, and Space Cop to reach the bottom of the docking lot, exit, and head across the street for Plinkett's Poppers. From there, it was just as simple of a matter to enter the bar.

And it was just as scummy and low inside as the two women thought it was from the outside.

Accompanying the low light in the relatively grand patron's hall was the stink of so much booze and narcotics filling the air. Beings of all types lounged over their tables and booths lazily from whatever euphoric event each of them were undergoing, some of them barely paying attention to the attractive Devaronian woman dancing completely nude on the stage. What few patrons - all of them men of different species - who were sober cheered as loudly and as erratically as those who were drunk enough to appreciate the sight on the stage.

The Devaronian herself had a smile plastered on her face as she danced to the exotic music playing, but that was it. For those who looked past her erotic movements, it was quite obvious that the dancer felt humiliated and insecure about being completely exposed in front of a crowd of unruly men who were either drunk, stoned, or both. Vestara didn't need the Force to tell her that the Devaronian felt this way as she went through the motions of her routine.

The music came to an end, and the naked dancer executed a perfunctory bow before her audience, eliciting a range of applause from what sounded obligatory to genuine. The Devaronian didn't stay on stage any longer than she had to, and quickly gathered up the clothes she discarded on the stage before making a bee-line for the backstage exit.

The lights on the stage shut off and the patrons went back to their leisurely activities; it would be a while before another routine started up, everyone who was sober realized. Those who consumed substantial alcohol and drugs just seemed to nod off. Meanwhile, Vestara, Mirta, and Space Cop approached the nearest bouncer, currently stationed at the club's emergency exit.

And it happened to be that of a gorilla dressed in a security uniform.

"Wait, that's the gorilla you mentioned?" Mirta asked Space Cop as they approached the bouncer. "I thought you were just kriffing around with us."

"Kriffing'?" Space Cop asked. "Is that your word for 'fucking'?"

"I think so," Mirta replied just as they reached the gorilla guard.

"Hello, good sir," Space Cop said to the bouncer, as if he didn't know him, "I have two wonderful ladies right here who'd like to be dancers."

Mirta grabbed Space Cop's shoulder and spun him around. "I told you," she growled, "_I'm_ not the one who's gonna be dancing naked on that stage." She pointed to the area that the naked Devaronian vacated.

"If you want an application," the gorilla said in a low, baritone voice, "there's the office of the manager of the club."

"You mean Plinkett?" Vestara asked. Her tone was hopeful; maybe, she thought, she wouldn't have to go up on that stage and dance nude.

"No, no," the gorilla corrected. "The manager, Dev'lia. Mr. Plinkett, who runs the finances for the club, is in an undisclosed location."

"You will tell us where Plinkett is," Vestara said with a wave of her hand.

Instead of answering, the gorilla looked at Space Cop. "Why did you bring a Jedi along?" he whispered.

"She isn't a Jedi," Space Cop clarified. "She's a Sith."

"Whatever," the gorilla said. "Point is, if you think you can send a Jedi or Sith assassin in to kill Plinkett, you're outta luck. Plinkett has ysalamari with him."

"I don't need to completely rely on the Force," Vestara said. "I have combat skills that can make up for that. I'm sure I can take on Plinkett and this Dev'lia."

"Dev'lia's not a problem," the gorilla said. "It's Plinkett. Problem is, I really don't know where he is, and trust me, it ain't for a lack of trying. Unlike this idiot here." He indicated Space Cop with a nod of his head.

"Hey, at least I eat hot dogs knowing full well what's in them," Space Cop countered. "You had no idea what was in them and ate 'em anyway."

"Only for a while, until I realized what was in them," the gorilla - Simon Taggert - replied. "The fact you still eat them, knowing full well what's in them, makes you more of an idiot."

"Alright, alright," Space Cop said with waves of his hands, "you say that's where we go to see Dev'lia?" He pointed at the office in the corner of the club that Taggert indicated.

"That's where this young woman goes to see him," Taggert said as he indicated Vestara with a nod of his head. "You are twenty, right?" he asked the Sith.

She nodded.

"I'll take your word for it," Taggert said reluctantly. "And I'm more than sure that Dev'lia will, too. Now, off you go." He motioned his fingers for Vestara to go to the office.

When Vestara moved for Dev'lia's office, Mirta stopped her by grabbing at the crook of her elbow.

"Why didn't you use a mind trick on this moron when we met him?" she asked, not bothering to hide her words in front of Space Cop.

"I sensed his mind," Vestara said as he looked at their human male companion. "Not much to control there."

Space Cop smiled triumphantly. "Yeah, I know. My mind is so awesome, no Jedi or Sith would dare try to take it over."

"Sure, we'll go with that," Vestara said sardonically. She then slipped her arm out of Mirta's grip and turned back for Dev'lia's office.


	4. Chapter 4

Vestara was about to knock on the door to the office when a Wookiee bouncer, as hairy as Simon Taggert, abruptly stepped in front of her, seemingly from out of nowhere. The alien bouncer roared, saying something in its native tongue that the Sith couldn't understand.

Vestara shook her head to indicate her ignorance. "I'm sorry, I don't understand..."

The Wookiee rolled its eyes in annoyance, then looked off to the side to wave someone over. Vestara looked in the indicated direction and saw a dark-skinned male bouncer from the other side of the bar cross to their direction. Once that bouncer arrived, the Wookiee roared to its colleague, and the latter nodded before turning his attention down at Vestara.

"Why do you wanna see the manager, little lady?" the human asked.

"I wanna apply for a job," Vestara answered. "As a dancer, I mean."

"You look a little young," the human said uncertainly, which was backed up by an accompanying yelp from the Wookiee that matched its colleague's tone.

"Well, I'm sorry, but I don't have any ID, so I can't really prove my age..." She trailed off as she wondered how she could possibly get hired now.

Before either of the bouncers could respond, the door behind them opened up, and a red-furred Bothan appeared. The guards shifted their attention from Vestara to their boss, Dev'lia, dressed in completely blue clothes created entirely from silk.

"There's no need for you to interrogate this little sweetheart any further, gentlemen," the manager said in a slimy tone. Vestara already decided that she didn't like him. "_I'll_ determine if she's old enough for the job."

The human and Wookiee both shrugged. "If you say so, boss," the human said.

He and his furry colleague turned back to Vestara and waved her inside. She stepped past Dev'lia as the door closed behind both of them.

"Please, sit down," Dev'lia said in that tone that tried way too hard to be pleasant.

Regardless, Vestara did as instructed and sat down in the chair indicated on the door-facing side of Dev'lia's desk. The whole time, she acted as if she was a nervous little girl who didn't truly mature into adulthood; the more desperate she seemed, she hoped, the more likely Dev'lia might hire her on the spot. While she only just met the Bothan and didn't really know anything about him - beyond his slithery-feeling presence in the Force - she could already tell that a guy like him got off on nervous little desperate girls.

Her ruse was already working, she saw, as Dev'lia sat himself behind his desk and leveled a predatory smile in her direction. "So," he said, "I understand you're looking to become a dancer, Miss...?"

"Sahali, sir," she said from the top of her head. "Rain Sahali."

"Rain, huh?" Dev'lia asked as he sat back in his reclining chair. He placed a finger beneath his prominent snout and simply stared at Vestara for a moment. After that passed, he smiled and leaned forward over his desk. "Yes, yes. I already have something in mind for you, Rain."

"And what would that be, sir?" Vestara asked, maintaining the facade of a wide-eyed innocent with no other choices in life.

"Please, call me Devvy," he said. "The rest of the female employees around here call me that. And you should, too." At that, he leveled a finger up at Vestara, and just as quickly placed it back upon his desk. "Because you're going to be an employee here, as well. And what I have for you, my dear..." He lingered his gaze on Vestara for an uncomfortable moment before reclining back in his chair.

"Ah, yes, I can already see it," he said as he tore his gaze from the Sith and looked up at the ceiling, waving his arms up in that direction as if there was a holoscreen there. "You will play the sad, lonely teenaged girl, lost in love, with her own love lost, never to be regained." He leveled his gaze back at her. "Your pain will be represented by the falling of raindrops from a large, beautiful sky, to reflect on your own tears, accentuated all the more by the grace and tranquility of your dance routine. And all the while, as you strip of your clothes, you not only reveal the soft milky flesh beneath, but the sorrow and agony that will forever haunt your heart." He smirked. "It'll make the audience cry through their eyes as much as their cocks."

He reclined back in his chair and folded his hands over his lean stomach, leveling his predatory gaze back at Vestara again. "Mister Plinkett will love it; he's quite a softy for things that make you feel emotions other than obligatory lust. Assuming you manage to prove your worth as a dancer, you could be one of the greatest dancers this bar's ever had."

Vestara, still maintaining her facade, asked, "How do you see all that from me?"

Dev'lia shrugged. "Honestly, I'm not quite sure. I just do." He then seemed to switch his expression; he went from looking he was either going to eat or rape Vestara to business-like. "You appear in the stage two days from now. You start tomorrow at one in the afternoon in training." He allowed a faint smile that seemed as unpleasant as when she first saw him. "I hope you have a good time in Plinkett's Poppers, Rain."

The Sith managed to replicate a smile, still consistent with her feigned nervousness that accompanied a reluctant nod. "I'll see that that happens, Devvy." She then stood up and turned to leave the office.

Outside the office, she caught Mirta and Space Cop in a conversation, with Simon Taggert escorting a drunken Givin out of the bar.

"What are in these hot dogs?" the Mandalorian asked.

"Processed horse penis and Chinese people," Space Cop answered. "At least they are in the future."

Mirta was silent for a moment, and even Vestara, in spite of herself, was also speechless.

"While I may not know what a horse is or what a Chinese person is, I think I understand why your gorilla friend decided to puke that _osik_ out," Mirta remarked.

"It's a shame, though," Space Cop said. "It's the thing I miss most about the future. That last hot dog I had, I kept in reserve from the time travel."

"How did it taste?" Vestara asked, not sure if she really wanted to know.

"More of the flavor is brought out, especially from the Chinese aspect," Space Cop said. "In my time, you never really have legitimate Chinese food anymore. The biggest problem was, though, unfortunately, it made me hungry an hour later."


	5. Chapter 5

After leaving Plinkett's Poppers, Vestara and Mirta headed across the street to return to the docking lot where Ship remained. Once they were on the other sidewalk, however, they looked back and saw Space Cop hailing an aircab, which dropped alongside him so he could enter. It sped off into the distance without a second's hesitation.

"Where do you think he's going?" Vestara asked her Mandalorian counterpart.

"Probably to a cheap hotel for the night," Mirta answered; dusk had already settled and began its gradual descent to darkness. "C'mon, let's get back to Ship." The two women turned back to their original direction and continued for their destination.

Once they arrived, however, they stopped dead in their tracks when they saw that Ship, with or without his holographic disguise, was gone, along with Space Cop's car-like vessel.

"Um, Ves?" Mirta asked without looking at the Sith, instead keeping her eyes on where the Meditation Sphere was.

"Yes?" Vestara also kept her gaze locked on where their sentient transport was.

"You have any idea where either ship is?"

"Nope."

"Mind contacting yours?"

"Just let me concentrate."

Vestara then shut her eyes and concentrated, sending out a call.

_Ship, where are you?_

_I am not sure, Lady Khai. The last thing I remembered was that a female Duros and a male Klatooinian had approached me and somehow sent an electrical pulse that knocked me out. I have just awakened and all I can tell you of my surroundings is that of an empty cargo container. But I am not sure if I am in another vessel or in an underground bunker._

_Do you sense anyone nearby?_ Vestara asked.

_No. I cannot seem to sense anyone or anything in my vicinity. And I cannot seem to be able to operate any of my weapons systems or anything else; it seems as if I am trapped somehow. Like when Space Cop entrapped me_.

_We'll look for you_, Vestara communed. _I promise_. With that, she closed off the communication and quickly told Mirta of the Meditation Sphere's situation.

"No doubt Plinkett or Dev'lia's behind this, or maybe both," Mirta said. "Three things, though. One, how'd they figure us out so fast? Two, how'd they manage to take our ships so fast? And three, if they know who we are, why haven't we been ambushed yet?"

Vestara shook her head. "I don't think it was Plinkett or Dev'lia's doing. I think we're dealing with another party here."

"Like who?"

"Jedi."

Mirta bared her teeth. "What would they be doing here?"

"Cleaning out the galaxy, as it were, just like they did back in the Chiloon Rift," Vestara estimated.

"So they're probably here for Plinkett, too," Mirta said. "But again, if they have Ship, and even if he does still have his holographic disguise, shouldn't we be ambushed anyway?"

"Doubt it," Vestara said. "I think it's just the Duros and Klatooinian we're dealing with here. And I think they maybe too preoccupied with Ship and Space Cop's car."

"Car?" Mirta asked.

"Sure looks like one," Vestara said. "Might as well call it that."

Mirta shook her head. "Whatever. Point is, what do we do now? How do we begin our search for our ships?"

"Well, before we actually go looking for them, I think we need to rendezvous with Space Cop," Vestara said.

"Why?" Mirta asked.

"Because he's part of the team against Plinkett," Vestara answered, as if it were obvious.

"Yeah, but he's as useful to us as a quadriplegic in a jungle," Mirta said. "We can handle this on our own."

"Sure, but he is paying us," Vestara pointed out. "That, and the fact that the Jedi may come after him."

"They could come after us first," Mirta countered. "After all, we are the greater threat than that lecherous moron."

"Right again, but Space Cop is an unknown, unlike us," Vestara argued. "While the Jedi already know what we're capable of, it's more likely they'll either capture or kill Space Cop first just to make sure they've eliminated him as a potential threat."

Mirta sighed. "Okay, you're the one with the better memory, where did Space Cop say he was staying?"

"A motel called The Stop-Inn," Vestara answered as she took out her datapad from her belt pouch. "Let's see where it is on this rock."

.

In the aircab that ferried him to The Stop-Inn, Space Cop inhaled the secondhand fumes coming from the Nikto driver's marijuana and lounged back in the rearward seat.

"Can I check out dat gun oyours, miman?" the driver slurred, looking at his passenger through the rear-view mirrpanel.

"Anything for you, Nikko," Space Cop said as he passed his big laser rifle forward, neither of them noticing his mispronunciation of the word Nikto.

"Awesome, man," the alien said as he took his eyes off the air ahead and his hands off the wheel of his vehicle. In an instant, the aircab began a steep descent for the ground, and yet, its pilot and passenger didn't seem to notice.

"I know, right?" Space Cop asked the second before the aircab crashed several meters from the entrance of The Stop-Inn.

Moments later, both driver and passenger crawled out of the wrecked vehicle with several cuts and bruises from the accident. They stood up, looked at each other, and hugged as the Nikto gave Space Cop his gun back.

"We survived that, man!" the Nikto cried out, tears streaming from his eyes. "And it's all my fault."

"It's not your fault, man," Space Cop whispered in the tone of a lover. "It's not your fault."

With that, they split up and wandered away from each other with their stoned gaits, with the Nikto ambling aimlessly away from his downed aircab while Space Cop continued for The Stop-Inn.


	6. Chapter 6

Space Cop ambled into The Stop-Inn and continued to stumble toward the reception area, where the female Weequay employee behind the desk was snorting a white narcotic straight off her work area with a rolled-up piece of flimsiplast. After she took a deep sniff, clearing her area of the drug, she abruptly leaned back and looked straight up to the ceiling before allowing a scream of both pain and joy to escape.

Her scream continued right to the point of addressing Space Cop. "Whadakriffdoyouwant?!" she exclaimed.

"Room, please," he said in a euphoric tone, completely unfazed by the Weequay's exclamation.

The alien stuck out her hand, palm up. "Gimme, gimme, gimme, gimme!"

"Wassagimme?" Space Cop asked.

"CREDITS, MORON!" the Weequay shouted. "MONEY!"

"I didn't know gimme was another word for cash," Space Cop said.

"What? It's not! I'm saying gimme the money!"

"Now there's a guy named Gimme the Money?" Space Cop asked. "Man, people are getting creative nicknames these days."

"No, I'm saying gimme the money!"

Space Cop just stared back at her stupidly and intoxicated from the Nikto's marijuana.

The Weequay waited a few awkward moments, her outstretched arm shaking impatiently, before she slammed it down upon her desk and shouted, "Do you have any kriffing money or not?!"

"Yeah, I have money, why?" Space Cop asked, oblivious as to what the alien wanted.

"Then gimme!" She struck out her palm again.

"What about gimme?" Space Cop asked, still not knowing what the Weequay meant.

"MONEY!"

"Yeah, what about money?"

The Weequay's eye twitched as the rest of her body shook, more out of the adrenaline pumping through her veins from the narcotic she took in rather than her anger and impatience toward Space Cop.

"Place your money on the table!" the alien shouted.

"Okay," Space Cop said. "How much? And why?"

"WHY?!" the Weequay shouted. "So you can have a room! And it's fifty credits a night!"

"Alright, just lemme get my wallet," Space Cop said.

"Who you talking to?" the Weequay asked as the human reached for the pocket that contained his wallet.

"You," Space Cop answered.

"Then who's this Lemme?" the alien asked.

"I don't know. You know someone named Lemme?"

"No, do you?" the Weequay asked.

"No."

The two of them then just stared at each other awkwardly for another long moment before the alien screamed, "Getoutyourkriffinwallet!"

"Okay," Space Cop said as he slowly reached for his pocket again.

When he took it out and opened it, however, more than a dozen condoms spilled to the floor. Space Cop dropped his wallet next to them as he began picking them all up and brought them right down on the table, which the Weequay eyed with surprise and confusion. Her gaze continuously wandered between Space Cop and the condoms in quick succession.

"Whadakriffisthis?!" she shouted.

"My money," Space Cop answered honestly.

"This all worthless!" the alien said as she waved her hands down at what was on her desk. "I take credits here, not condoms!"

"But these are my credits," Space Cop said. "I used each of them up; you gotta give me credit for banging several human and alien women in one night with all these condoms. Hence, these are my credits."

The Weequay's face fell from confusion to horror, her gaze, again, flipping between Space Cop and the condoms. She let out a battle cry and mounted the desk, tackling the stoned human to the ground before she began viciously attacking him. His giant gun clattered away from the two of them as the Weequay beat him up.

However, after a few moments, Space Cop managed to shove the alien off and began crawling back for the desk. "Just let me get one of 'em, dear, and we can continue this in a moment."

Before he reached the desk, however, the alien tackled him back to the ground and rolled him back over. A few more moments of hitting him, and the alien stopped, looking down at Space Cop with wonderment.

"Is that...?" She pointed where she was just above his pelvis.

"That's why I wanted to get one of the condoms," he said with a smile.

A few seconds later, the Weequay herself smiled and kissed him.

Minutes later, the both of them were naked and laying on the floor, their clothes around them, as they slept in contentment.

_Who needs disease-infested protection anyway?_ Space Cop thought before sleep overcame him.

.

Klatooinian Jedi Knight Ferava looked at the wrecked aircab out in front of The Stop-Inn and activated his commlink.

"Ohali, it's Ferava," he said after his counterpart answered. "Security and police patrols seem pretty lax around here; I'm seeing a crashed aircab in front of me and no one but me's around to see it."

"The Hutts went lax on their hold over this moon after that whole slave uprising a year ago," Ohali Soroc's voice returned. "They figured, why waste anymore resources after losing so much?"

"Wonderful," Ferava said sarcastically. "I'm at The Stop-Inn, where that stranger with Vestara Khai and Mirta Gev was heading to. How you doing on those ships?"

"They're on their way to Shedu Maad right now," Ohali said. "I'm heading back down to take care of Khai and Gev."

"Negative, you know the rules Grand Master Skywalker laid down for this mission," Ferava said. "Plinkett first. We can take care of Khai and Gev later."

"Hopefully," Ohali said. "Assuming neither of them escape like they did at the Qrephs' base. At least Master Skywalker was lenient enough to let us check this guy with Khai and Gev. Soroc out."

Ferava then replaced his commlink and headed for The Stop-Inn, only to stop short when he saw the nude forms of his quarry and a Weequay, both sleeping on the grime-infested floor. The Klatooinian then brought his hand up to hide his eyes from the sleeping couples' respective genitals as he approached the human, reluctantly nudging him awake with his foot at his fat side.

"Hey, pal, get up," Fevera said.

The human then snapped awake, sat up hurriedly, and exclaimed, "Ah! Aunt Mabel, don't make me eat your roasted pussy!" He then seemed to get his bearings as he looked around himself before finding the Klatooinian looking down upon him. "Oh."

"Could you please get dressed, sir?" Ferava asked. "I'd like to ask you a few ques-"

His statement was cut off as a red laser bolt zinged its way through the motel entryway and hit the Klatooinian in the side of the forehead. Space Cop didn't even flinch at that, and only observed the resultant corpse fall to the floor next to him.

Moments later, Vestara and Mirta - hands covering their sights from Space Cop's genitals - entered the motel.

"Get dressed now, moron," Mirta commanded. "We're leaving."


	7. Chapter 7

After seeing to it that Space Cop got dressed, Vestara and Mirta returned outside with their moronic charge and looked up to Nar Shaddaa's polluted skies. There, zooming down from the disgusting green heavens, came the form of a StealthX, undisguised by the toxic color above and behind it.

"The Jedi up there's gonna try to kill us," Vestara stated objectively, keeping any worry she felt out of her tone as she watched the StealthX come in for them.

"No problem," Space Cop said before leveling up his gun for the starfighter and firing.

But instead of a laser or anything, a blazing blue ring shot out from the gun's advanced barrel and expanded in diameter until it managed to encompass the StealthX around it when they intercepted each other. The ring disappeared in an instant once it reached the starfighter, and two seconds later, the Jedi ship's controlled descent turned into a stone-drop plummet.

By the time the StealthX was fifty meters from the ground - and after which Vestara, Mirta, and even Space Cop had moved away from the predicted crash site - the starfighter's occupant, a female Duros dressed in traditional Jedi robes, had already parachuted out of her dying vessel. A few seconds later, her ship crashed against the ground in a fiery explosion, and her relatively slow descent began to carry her forward and away from the crash site.

But it wasn't because of the wind or anything - it was because the Jedi was caught in a Force-hold by Vestara.

The Duros, knowing her predicament, quickly unbuckled herself from her parachuted seat and launched herself the rest of the way to the ground, unhooking her lightsaber from her belt and activating it in an instant as she free-fell.

Responding quickly, Vestara took out and ignited her own red blade to clash against the Jedi's by the time the latter landed before her. They traded a few quick blows before Mirta managed to circle behind the Duros and deliver a quick punch in the back of her head, knocking her out in an instant.

"Well, that was quick and easy," Space Cop remarked as he looked down upon the unconscious Jedi. As Vestara deactivated and hooked her saber back to her belt, Space Cop looked back up at Mirta. "But why didn't you just kill her?"

"We need her to tell us where our ships are," Mirta answered as she bent down and took out a pair of stuncuffs to slap on the Duros.

"Our ships are gone?" Space Cop asked in shock.

"Yeah, now let's take her into this dump and see if she'll squeal," Mirta said as she lifted the unconscious Jedi in her arms and proceeded into The Stop-Inn with Vestara and Space Cop.

"I recognize this Jedi," Vestara said.

"So do I," Mirta said. "Ohali Soroc," she continued for Space Cop's benefit. "She was a Jedi held captive by our previous employers, the Qrephs. Long story, we'll tell you later."

Once they were inside the motel, the Weequay receptionist, still naked, had woken up and stared up at Space Cop with a favoring smile. She stood up, circled back behind her desk, and procured a key from a desk drawer.

"Here, it's on the house, honey," she said as she lightly tossed the keys to Space Cop. "At least for tonight. I gotta get my cucaine money somehow sometime."

"We'll keep that in mind," Mirta said disgustingly.

"You're not in for an orgy, are ya?" the Weequay asked.

"What?" Mirta and Vestara asked simultaneously.

The alien then looked at Space Cop. "You're not gonna kriff 'em, eh?"

"No, no, I'm not," Space Cop answered in a disappointed tone.

"So you're not gonna rape her either?" the Weequay asked, pointing at the unconscious Duros. "'Cause, believe it or not, I woulda been fine with that."

"No!" Vestara and Mirta proclaimed.

"Alright, alright, go ahead," the Weequay said as she waved them down the hall to their room.

Without any further words, the trio headed for their cabin.

.

The Jedi woke up from the slap of Vestara's hand across her face, and the Duros quickly found herself in a rundown motel room with stuncuffs restraining her wrists to the head of the bed that she was lying on. Atop her, the Sith who woke Ohali Soroc up leered down upon her captive, her legs on either side of the alien's hips, straddling her.

"Ves, if you wanna turn this into a lesbo session, give me advance notice, 'cause I wanna record this," Space Cop said from off to the side, standing next to Mirta.

After Vestara regarded him with Mirta, the latter punched the male unconscious, and then the Mandalorian nodded for her Sith counterpart to go on. Vestara nodded back and turned her attention back to the Jedi beneath her. A second later, she placed her right hand on the Duros' left cheek and sent a powerful jolt of electricity coursing through the alien's body, eliciting a painful scream from her.

"You know the drill from here," Vestara warned her captive. "You don't talk, this goes on, probably 'til you die, Jedi."

"Then you might as well kill me right now, Sith," Ohali replied in a threatening growl. "I'll never betray Master Skywalker or any of the Jedi Order! Unlike you!"

Without hesitation, Vestara sent another jolt of electricity through her victim. "Where are our ships?"

"You'll never penetrate my mind!" the Jedi proclaimed.

Again, Vestara sent a pulse of electricity pulsing through Ohali and repeated her question. When the Duros only yelled out, "Burn in the Corellian hells!" Vestara repeated her tactic.

Three more times, Mirta finally grabbed Vestara's electricity-generating wrist and pulled it away from Ohali's face. "This isn't working," the Mandalorian told the Sith. "We're gonna need Space Cop for this one."

Vestara looked at Mirta incredulously. "What can _he_ do?"

"Honestly, I'm going out on a limb here, but let's hope this works," Mirta said before turning around and nudging Space Cop's head with her foot, awaking him with a start.

"Oh, God, Uncle George, don't make me play find the teacup under the bedsheets again!" he shouted. Once he got his bearings back, he said, "Oh."

"Hey, Space Cop," Mirta said, "wanna have a threesome with this Duros and the Weequay you just had fun with?"

"Do I ever!" Space Cop said with an enthusiastic shrug of his shoulders. "I sure do love bangin' ugly-ass alien women!" He stood up. "Let me go get Vagalla! That's the Weequay's name, by the way." He turned and left the room.

"You're bluffing," Ohali said nervously. "While I may not sense anything from him, I can already tell he won't rape me."

"You sure about that?" Vestara asked. She then took out a roll of tape from her belt, placed it over Ohali's mouth, and leaned back. "If you wanna talk, just send out a little nudge through the Force; that's the only use of it I'll allow from you."

Moments later, Space Cop returned with Vagalla the Weequay, the both of them jumping for joy that they'd get to be involved in a multi-species threesome and quickly getting undressed; neither Vestara or Mirta had time to inform Space Cop or the Weequay about why the Duros had tape over her mouth, for it seemed like neither the human male or Vagalla seemed to notice.

At that point, before Ohali could get her own clothes ripped off, Vestara already received a ping through the Force from the Jedi.

"Get him off," Vestara said to Mirta.

The Mandalorian nodded and leaped across the bed, tackling the again-naked Space Cop and punching him out once more while Vestara used the Force to fling the Weequay across the room, quickly knocking her unconscious once she hit the wall there.

The Sith then ripped the tape off the Duros Jedi's lips. "Start talking."


	8. Chapter 8

When Space Cop awakened and sat up from the floor where Mirta knocked him out, he saw Vestara still straddling the female Duros on the bed.

"Thank you for your cooperation, Jedi Soroc," the Sith said.

Vestara then grabbed the Duros's neck and snapped it. As Mirta went to work on uncuffing the dead alien, Vestara stepped off the bed and looked down at Space Cop, who, at this point, was only in his underwear, so the Sith didn't have to shield her eyes from the male's groin.

"Our ships are heading to Shedu Maad as we speak," Vestara told him as she helped him up to his feet. "No doubt if the Jedi get their hands on it, they'll get access to either of our vessels' databanks and recorders, and find out what we're doing here."

Space Cop shrugged nonchalantly. "So? We won't be doing anything wrong. We'll just be killing an extremely wealthy and influential businessman, and really, who likes them anymore?"

Vestara shook her head. "Not the point. In fact, if anything, if it were just that, we'd be doing their job, since the Jedi also had their sights on Plinkett. No, we'll be sitting ducks once the Jedi send their reinforcements here, and there's nothing we can do to speed up our operation to kill Plinkett. Not to mention what they'll do to Ship in experimenting on him." The Sith's tone was genuinely fearful for the Meditation Sphere.

"Or the fact that they'll be sending backup Jedi once they don't hear from either Soroc or her Klatooinian friend," Mirta said as she hefted the Duros's corpse up in her arms. "At this point, though, all we can do is just dispose of the Jedi bodies."

"Wait!" Vagalla's voice came from the other end of the room.

Everyone else shifted their attention to her.

"Maybe I can help with your Jedi problem," the Weequay said, standing up from the floor clad only in her bra and panties. "But it's gonna cost ya. And keep in mind, I take credits."

Vestara and Mirta looked at the alien in confusion. "Isn't that the currency that extends even in Hutt space these days?" the Mandalorian inquired.

Vagalla shook her head. "Never mind. It's gonna cost ya seven hundred."

"Here, hold this," Mirta said as she handed Ohali Soroc's corpse to Vestara. The Mandalorian then took out a wallet from her belt pouch, took out some creditchips, counted them briefly, then walked over and handed them to Vagalla.

The Weequay took a few seconds to greedily count the money, nodded at the chips, shoved them into her bra, then looked for her pants. A few moments later, she found it, activated it, and dialed in a comm frequency.

"What are you doing?" Vestara asked the Weequay.

The alien held up a hand with only an index finger held up to silence the Sith, then, after a gruff male voice responded from the other end of the comm, Vagalla spoke enthusiastically: "Revim! How've you been, my man?"

"Still waiting for my money, Vag," Revim's voice responded dourly.

"Don't worry, don't worry, I got your money," the Weequay said in a reassuring tone. "Seven hundred it was, right?"

"Fourteen hundred," Revim said, still dour.

Vagalla's face dropped, then shifted back to Mirta. "You got anymore?"

Mirta traded a look with Vestara as to whether or not she should give the Weequay more money, but Revim's voice cut off either of the women's conclusions.

"Never mind. That money will be a good down payment. Now whatchu need me for now, Vag? If it's more cucaine, for you, you're gonna have to get the rest of those credits-"

"I just need a favor, Revim," Vagalla cut him off.

"A favor, eh? Well, I guess I do owe you one for saving my life from Geron and his flunkies while giving me a blowjob at the same time."

At that, Vestara and Mirta winced, while Space Cop's eyes shot up in interest.

"Awesome!" Vagalla responded. "Listen, you think you can send in some ships of yours to cut off a..." She looked back at Mirta. "What's the ship taking your ships?"

"A 24r Skipray Blastboat," Vestara answered.

"I hear that," Revim said. "Where do you need me to cut it off from?"

"Transitory Mists, please, heading directly from Nar Shaddaa," Mirta said. "By now, assuming it runs on full hyperdrive capacity, it should still be a few hundred lightyears from the edge of the Mists and closing."

"No problem," Revim said. "And as far as I'm concerned, the favors are even now, Vagalla. I'll meet you two days to get my down payment. And I'll letcha know if my guys cut the Blastboat off and save your ships." He then cut off the connection.

"He owed you a favor, and yet he still wants money from you?" Vestara asked the Weequay as Mirta took the Duros's corpse out of the Sith's arms.

The alien shrugged. "Hey, he's a businessman. Can't let business and pleasure get mixed up... at least not too often."

"You know, Vagalla, you gotta tell us the story of how you managed to save that guy while still giving him a blowjob one day," Space Cop interjected.

"You can tell _him_," Mirta said to Vagalla while pointing at Space Cop. "Right now, I gotta take care of this corpse." She then moved for the door.

"I'll come with you," Vestara said, trailing her Mandalorian counterpart. "You two can have fun in this room. Oh, and, Vagalla, can we steal one of your keys for another room?"

"By all means," the Weequay said with an absentminded wave of her hand.

After Vestara and Mirta were gone, Space Cop asked, "This is a closed-down motel, isn't it?"

Vagalla nodded. "Yep. I just hide out here from Geron's thugs. So, wanna fuck?"

At his nod, they went at it.


	9. Chapter 9

Jedi Knight Doran Sarkin-Tainer's danger sense tingled too late for him when the Skipray Blastboat he piloted dropped out of hyperspace dozens of lightyears from the Transitory Mists. The next thing he knew, his forward viewscreen was filled with the laser bolts of several transport yachts hitting his front shields.

Taking evasive action immediately, Doran wheeled the Blastboat around, simultaneously shifting power from his waning forward shields to his rear shields. But once again, because of the hurried action, the Jedi's senses failed him; more yachts were hanging back that way and were already pouring lasers in his direction.

And with no energy protecting his bow, the lasers tore through the hull before him, expelling the helpless Knight out into the vacuum of space.

.

"So you're Rain Sahali, I take it?" the slightly overweight green Twi'lek woman said to Vestara.

The humanoid was clad entirely out of blue-tinted shimmersilk, as if they were her pajamas; clearly, Vestara thought, this woman wasn't a dancer, but from her air, it seemed like she once was in her life. And now, while she'd only be attractive enough to have sex with a man if he were drunk, it was obvious that either Plinkett, Dev'lia, or both saw her fit enough to continue training dancers for Plinkett's Poppers.

Her name was Faul'irp, and she was meeting Vestara in the dancers' dressing room. Around the Sith and the trainer, dancers were getting ready with their exotic and easy-to-rip-off clothes and other accessories for the pleasures of their audience on the stage. Only Vestara and Faul'irp were the only women in the room to be dressing respectably for their gender.

Vestara nodded, quickly falling back into the persona of an innocent, naive girl with nowhere else to go. "I am."

"Very well," Faul'irp said in a matter-of-fact way. "Follow me." She waved her hand to a door in a far corner of the room and walked to it, passing by several of the dancers still getting ready for their acts. Vestara followed the Twi'lek easily, though she made sure to keep her steps appearing uncertain and hesitant, if only to keep up her off-stage act to her fellow dancers.

Faul'irp opened the door and walked inside, with Vestara still following her lead. Inside the room, the Twi'lek waved the human in and as the former closed the door behind her, the latter took stock of her surroundings.

They were in a bare grey room, empty except for the raised dais at the back of the room with a metal pole extending from the floor all the way to the ceiling. Surrounding the top of the pole were a set of light bulbs. Other than those features, which appeared well-maintained and in relatively pristine conditions, the rest of the near-empty room was covered with a thin layer of dust. Vestara wondered why maintenance didn't bother with everything aside from the dais, the pole, and the lights in this area, but decided not to voice her question to Faul'irp; her inquisitiveness would only attract suspicion to her guise as Rain Sahali.

"Wait on that stage," Faul'irp commanded, still in that matter-of-fact tone. "Don't do anything until Mister Dev'lia arrives, which will be any minute now."

"Yes, ma'am," Vestara replied in that false mousy tone, heading to the dais without complaint.

A quarter of a minute after she arrived and turned on the stage to face Faul'irp, Dev'lia barged into the room and walked right up next to the Twi'lek.

"So, Faully, is our beautiful little Raindrop here ready to convince us she can make it thunder on the stage?" the Bothan asked.

"She is," the Twi'lek said. She looked back up at Vestara. "Now, Rain, I want you to do exactly as I say, and go as slow as you need to. This is only a training exercise. There's no need to worry here, even as I understand that Devvy here wants you to get up on stage tomorrow." She gave him a brief glare that he barely repressed snarling to.

But just as quickly as he restrained himself from growling at Faul'irp, Dev'lia managed to regain his businesslike composure and smiled that creepy smile of his. "Oh, but, Faully, I can sense it in her," he said in that slick tone that usually accompanied that predatory grin. "She'll make it quickly. I think you'll be very impressed."

Faul'irp grimaced, but shifted attention away from her scummy employer to her latest trainee. "Take off your clothes, slowly and carefully, as if all your joints are in pain," the Twi'lek commanded. "And arch your back and sway your hips as sensually as you can."

Vestara did exactly as Faul'irp instructed, managing to execute the movements almost flawlessly. She all but suppressed the cold shiver in her spine from Dev'lia's obvious growl of pleasure, mixed with the gaze he leveled up at her that was even more predatory than before. Faul'irp, on the other hand, conveyed nothing in her body image or facial expressions, but Vestara could feel through the Twi'lek's force aura that she felt great shame and embarrassment at having to train a young woman like Rain Sahali to do this; and with a pervert right next to her enjoying the show to boot.

"Very good, Rain," Faul'irp said once Vestara was down to her bra and panties. "Now do what you can with your underwear; it's your first time, I understand, so I won't dock you points if you execute it less than flawlessly."

Vestara swallowed a lump in her throat that was all too real this time. And seeing Dev'lia's all but lick his snout in pleasure didn't help things.

But somehow, after a bit of hesitation, and without any repeat of the command by Faul'irp, the Sith rather clumsily unhooked her bra, then slid down her panties.

And yet, somehow, she managed to stand not meekly and with her head hung low, or proudly and with her head held high, but as sexually and as provocative as she could in her nude form.

At that point, Dev'lia couldn't hold back the animal roar that came from his wolf-like vocals. Faul'irp didn't even flinch to his reaction.

For the next three hours, Vestara managed to listen and obey all of Faul'irp's commands, repeating several moves quite a few times to make sure that Rain Sahali didn't make any last-minute foul-ups in her upcoming performance. Vestara didn't; she was flawless, not only thanks to her natural grace, agility, and combat training, but also in letting the Force guide her successfully through all her movements.

By the end of those hours, Faul'irp sighed and said, "You will be ready for tomorrow, Rain."

"I told ya she'd do it, Faully," Dev'lia said to the Twi'lek. "Didn't I?"

"You certainly did, Devvy," the Twi'lek replied in her impenetrable monotone.

Again, Vestara could feel Faul'irp's pain in having to do this. But she wouldn't confront her on this; maybe not even after Plinkett, and most certainly Dev'lia, were gone.

All Vestara could do now was get her clothes, put them back on, and leave with the dignity she maintained against Dev'lia's viewing.


	10. Chapter 10

After seeing Vestara leave for the rear of Plinkett's Poppers, Mirta decided to take a seat at an empty table and caught the eye of Simon Taggert. The gorilla man was off in a discrete corner of the bar, looking out among the patrons with his stoic expression, until he saw the Mandalorian's fractional head-tilt, indicating that she wanted him at her table.

Taggert looked off in the direction of Dev'lia's office, where his Wookiee colleague, Jerlacca, was looking at the Zeltron stripper on the stage popping her breasts out of her bra and snapping her panties with only her thighs, eliciting loud whoops of cheers from the crowd. Taggert then looked at the other end of the bar, where his human colleague, Gargo, also had his attention fixed on the naked Zeltron.

Normally, Taggert would shake his head regarding his fellow guards' lax sense of duty; following it up with a report to Dev'lia would be a waste of time, as the perverted Bothan didn't care what happened in his bar so long as the customers were satisfied with the services provided to him, the money came in, and no violence broke out. But here, Gargo and Jerlacca's inattentiveness to their duties worked as an advantage to Taggert; talking to Mirta wouldn't raise suspicion from either of them. They'd think he was simply flirting with her even if they did catch him chatting with one of the patrons while on-duty, and they wouldn't mind.

So, acting casual, Taggert walked over to the Mandalorian's table and sat down in the seat across from her.

"What is it?" he asked.

"You think you can do something about your friends?" Mirta asked, discreetly pointing at Gargo and Jerlacca.

"What exactly are you thinking?" Taggert inquired.

"I don't like Vestara getting naked and dancing to a pervert like her manager back there," Mirta explained. "I'm hoping that if I can get into his office, I can find some way to find Plinkett sooner rather than later, and be rid of this whole charade as quicker than imagined."

"Even if I could come up with some kind of plan that can distract Gargo and Jerlacca, I don't think I'd be able to enact it today," Taggert informed her. "You see, we have a special guest arriving at the bar today, and while she doesn't care much for high tastes and standards, she's very cautious when it comes to security around her."

"A woman is coming to this place?" Mirta asked in disbelief.

"Not just any woman," Taggert said. "A Hutt. And something of a lesbian, at that."

"What do you mean something of a lesbian?"

"Well, Hutts are hermaphroditic, so gender kind of becomes a grey point there."

Mirta nodded in understanding. "Well, all I need is a few minutes inside that office."

"You expect to find something of value in there that can lead you back to Plinkett?"

"Why else would I be doing this?"

Taggert shook his head. "It's too risky. The plan you have going right now is working, even if it's disgusting. If you attempt this, everything will go to the Corellian hells."

"Look, all I need you to do is start something that'll get your friends outta here for a little while," Mirta said.

Taggert shook his head. "Ain't gonna happen, lady. Gargo and Jerlacca may not be the most attentive guards on this side of the galaxy, but I don't think anything is gonna move 'em from their posts. Unless you decide to knock 'em out, which would most likely spread chaos in this bar from the initial hysteria, Dev'lia notices, and your plan falls apart-" He snapped his fingers "-just like that."

"So what if Dev'lia notices?"

"You forget that not even he knows where Plinkett is. You can torture and interrogate him all you want, but he won't give you a good answer even if he tried."

Mirta sighed and sat back. "You're right, this was a bad idea to begin with."

.

Coated completely in whipped cream, Space Cop rolled off of Vagalla, and the two of them lay on their bed, sweating and heaving, with their perspiration mixing with the cream around them.

"What... did... I... tell ya?" Space Cop asked his Weequay lover in between breaths. "Sex... is so much... yummier... when eating is involved."

"And eating it outta my pussy certainly cured your fear of vaginas," Vagalla added. "I am curious, though, if you're afraid of them, why do still like putting your dick inside them?"

"I like to think of my dick as a conquering spear against the monsters that inhabit a woman's vagina," Space Cop answered. "It's impenetrable as a boner, and will make even a Hutt orgasm."

"Even with its size?" Vagalla asked in disbelief.

Space Cop narrowed his view on the Weequay. "It's _never_ the size that matters. It's _always_ how you use it."

Vagalla patted his arm. "Sure, Spacey. Sure."

Space Cop sneered. "You don't think I can do it?"

Vagalla traced her finger along Space Cop's flabby chest, scooping up some whip cream and putting it in her mouth. After swallowing it, she said, "Spacey, if you can satisfy a Hutt with your tiny penis, I _will_ give you all the money I owe to Revim to you. How's that sound."

Space Cop's face fell into determination. "Challenge accepted."

He then rolled off the bed and headed for the door.

"Wait, what are you doing?" Vagalla asked as she still lay on the bed.

"I'm gonna find a Hutt woman on this moon and fuck her 'til she's satisfied, I don't care how many times it takes me," he said, reaching for the palm button to open the door leading out of the cabin.

"But don't you wanna get dressed first?"

Space Cop lowered his arm and looked back at Vagalla dramatically, held up his right hand, folded it slightly, and said, "One does not simply convince a Hutt you wanna fuck her when you're still clothed in public." He turned back, palmed the door open, and left the room, still naked with whip cream around his rotund, chubby body.


	11. Chapter 11

Walking naked across the streets of Nar Shaddaa, and still draped in whipped cream from his recent sexual bout with Vagalla, Space Cop was obviously attracting a significant amount of attention from the local populace. The nude imbecile himself trailed along the roads with his head held high, completely oblivious to the idiocy that he was displaying; for in his mind, he was dead-set on his goal of finding a Hutt and engaging in sexual intercourse with it.

Several minutes after walking away from The Stop-Inn, Space Cop came at an intersection on the road before him. An over-sized, close-topped landspeeder zoomed by, but it was slow enough for Space Cop to spot the occupant in the vehicle's backseat - a Hutt, and one that most closely resembled a female equivalent for her species. At either side of her, Space Cop could see a light-skinned human male on the side facing him, and on the Hutt's far side was a Rodian male with a black bandana. Both looked stoic and militant, like typical mercenaries hired by criminals represented by the likes of the Hutt Empire.

He watched the speeder zoom by, with neither its occupants or its droid driver even noticing him. Space Cop then reached for his right pocket, where he'd normally have a small case of miniaturized tracers situated, but instead came up with whipped cream in his hand. Still seeming to forget that he was naked, though, the idiot went for where his other pocket would be if he was wearing pants, but yelped in pain when he grabbed his flabby thigh.

He then looked back to where the landspeeder drove by, and watched with a defeated sigh as it turned a corner and disappeared.

Slinking his head in disappointment, Space Cop began shuffling off to Plinkett's Poppers, forgetting that he didn't even have his disguise on.

.

Downing her second round of Hutta vodka, Mirta repressed spitting out the foul alcohol, slammed down her glass, and simply coughed two times before recomposing herself. She managed to recover just in time to find Vestara exit the back of Plinkett's Poppers and head over to Mirta's table.

What stopped the Sith in her tracks was when a male Gossam slapped her in the buttocks while she was walking away. Vestara swiveled around to glare at the perverted alien, who only offered a toothy grin up at her.

"Hey, baby," he said in heavily accented Basic. "Wanna see how much longer and thicker my dick is to my neck?" He then laughed with his friends, a Duros and a Ryn, both male.

Vestara started a move that would have snapped that long thin neck of the Gossam's when Simon Taggert seemed to manifest out of nowhere behind her and held her back by the arms. The Gossam and his friends gave Vestara and the bouncer holding her back imperceptible looks.

"It's not worth it," Taggert whispered in the Sith's ear. "You kick his ass, Dev'lia figures out who you are, and you fuck everything up."

Vestara relaxed in Taggert's grip and turned with him, away from the Gossam and his pals and back to Mirta's table.

After the Sith took her seat, and Taggert resumed his place back in his niche corner in the bar, Mirta asked her counterpart, "So how'd you do back there? With your manager, I mean."

"I convinced him, and the woman who guided my performance," Vestara answered neutrally.

"I see," Mirta replied, her tone telling Vestara that she understood that the Sith did some things she wasn't at all proud of.

"At least I didn't have to suck his hairy cock or anything," Vestara lamented.

"You sound like you need a pick-me-up," Mirta commented. "Want me to kick that Gossam's ass over there?"

Vestara shook her head. "I'd want you to, but since you're connected with me, that's just gonna hurt my position here."

"Then how 'bout a drink?" Mirta asked. She raised a hand and snapped her fingers. "Waiter, 'nother shot-glass over here!"

The Ithorian who held up a tray filled with clean empty glasses nearby nodded his bulbous head and walked over, gently placing a glass down at the Sith and Mandalorian's table. The latter nodded her thanks, and the alien walked off.

"Gotta warn ya though," Mirta said, "this stuff-" She nodded her head at the bottle of vodka "-packs a helluva punch."

"I think I can hold it down," Vestara said, letting Mirta fill up her shot-glass. The Sith then downed it, and groaned in pain, with Mirta nodding continuously with an empathetic smile.

"Hurts, don't it?" the Mando asked.

Vestara nodded wordlessly.

"Want another?"

Vestara shook her head wordlessly. But then just as quickly changed it to a nod, and offered her glass again. She downed the next one, and groaned yet again.

Before the Sith could hold out her glass-holding hand for another shot, her attention, along with Mirta's, shifted at the bar's exit, where a Rodian with a bandana entered. Very few other people, including all three bouncers, observed the newcomer alien, who then approached the closest guard, Taggert.

Vestara and Mirta watched Taggert and the Rodian exchange a few muted words before they shared a nod, and the Rodian left. The Sith and Mando kept their eyes fixed at the exit, and a few moments later, the green alien reentered with a human and a female-looking Hutt in tow. The slug-like being's presence in the bar attracted a lot more attention, as the majority of the patrons shifted their attention from the Togruta act now on stage to the Hutt herself.

Nevertheless, neither the Hutt nor her bodyguards - who kept their eyes peeled for any potential attackers - received any hassle as they were led to a private booth specially fitted for a Hutt like her. The gargantuan alien seated herself there and watched the Togruta dance illustriously on stage, smiling wide when the cat-like being snapped her breasts out of her decorative bra and spread her legs out wide to snap off her panties. That elicited a loud whoop of cheers from the audience that the Hutt soon joined in on.

Mirta looked at Vestara with a disgusted look. "Wanna go now?"

Vestara nodded. "You pay for that bottle, by the way?" She nodded her head at the vodka bottle on the table.

"Of course I did. C'mon, let's go."

The two of them stood up and left the bar.

A few minutes later, just when the Togruta onstage finished her act and left for the back, Space Cop, still naked and covered in whipped cream, barged in. This time, however, everyone turned to look at him, and he looked back at them, scanning the crowd briefly before spotting the shocked Hutt in the corner.

"There you are," he muttered under his breath with a predatory smile.

He then charged for her booth, where he was soon met by the bar's three bouncers halfway there. He managed to bowl over Jerlacca and knock him out with one blow before kicking both feet back into Gargo and Taggert's midsections, sending the both of them sprawling back over an empty table, where they hit their heads on the floor and were rendered unconscious. Space Cop, meanwhile, then sprang up from the unconscious Wookiee and continued to the Hutt's booth while everyone else in the bar watched the scene in utter shock.

The human and Rodian guards managed to tackle Space Cop once he reached their vicinity, but they were unable to hold him; with what seemed to be superhuman strength, Space Cop grabbed at their chests while they were still atop him and flung them up to the ceiling. They knocked their heads against the structure above them, and came back down unconscious again.

And before they even landed, Space Cop was already on his feet and facing the shocked Hutt in the booth.

"Now you're mine," he growled with desire.


	12. Chapter 12

Vestara and Mirta debarked the aircab they took in heading back to The Stop-Inn and proceeded to the motel as the cab zoomed off. After entering the foyer, however, they found that Vagalla, seated at her station, was faced by a brawny fair-skinned male dressed in a Corellian jacket and blue-striped pants. With him were two armed thugs, a Barabel and a Trandoshan, who stood at either side. All three of them had their backs on Vestara and Mirta, and only at the sound of the door opening by the latter did they turn around.

"Ladies," the human male said in a voice that tried too hard to be pleasant, "would you both be so kind as to come back later? Like, say, in a couple hours or so? Because we have important business to discuss with this lovely receptionist here." As if to emphasize his point, the Barabel and the Trandoshan fingered the butts of their holstered guns in anticipation of pressing their boss's point home.

Vagalla, meanwhile, was shaking her head with a worried expression, implying that Vestara and Mirta should do as the man said without hassle.

But neither the Sith nor her Mandalorian counterpart were intimidated. "I assume you must be Revim," the former guessed.

The human crossed his arms. "Very astute of you, young lady," he said. "Now leave." This time, his thugs had their grip on the handles of their blasters.

"If this is about the money that Vagalla owes you," Mirta piped in, "we can help pay it."

"This doesn't concern you," Revim said pointedly, all pretense or false kindness gone from his tone now. He then nodded at his thugs, who promptly removed their blasters from their holsters and leveled them straight up at Vestara and Mirta. "Now I won't say this again: leave or die."

But then Vestara reached out one hand and crushed the barrels of the blasters in the thugs' hands. The Barabel and Trandoshan looked in confusion at their wrecked weapons just as Revim cried out, "She's a Jedi! Get 'em both!"

The looks on the thugs' faces changed quickly from bafflement to angry determination in a second as they both threw away their bent blasters and retrieved their vibroblades from their respective pouches on their belts. Almost simultaneously, they charged their female opponents.

Unfortunately for them, neither the Barabel nor Trandoshan got the chance to engage in combat with either Vestara or Mirta, for the latter managed to whip out her own blaster and gunned them down with one shot each to their scaly foreheads.

Revim, however, had already vaulted Vagalla's desk, snatched her up from her chair by her torso in a strong one-armed bear-hug, and leveled his own blaster to the Weequay's head. At that point, Mirta had already aimed her blaster for Revim and Vagalla's direction.

"Do it, and I take her with me, Mando!" the man threatened.

Mirta cocked her head. "Say, Revim? How long will it be before your people get that Skipray back here?"

"They should be returning to this system in a few minutes, at any rate," he said, still not slacking on his grip on his hostage. "But once they arrive, I could just as well order them to shoot it up, taking with it your precious ships, if you don't leave right now!"

"Go ahead, kill her," Vestara said.

Both Revim and Vagalla looked in shock at the Sith. "What?" they asked simultaneously.

"You've both outlived your usefulness," Vestara said.

And with Revim's attention focused solely on the Sith at that crucial moment, Mirta took the opportunity to fire a bolt straight at the man's weapon-wielding hand. The blaster flew out of his grip and clattered to the dirty floor as he screamed in pain, releasing Vagalla from his hold and grabbing at his wounded hand vainly.

Then, as Vagalla fell forward on her desk from Revim releasing her, Mirta dashed over to the Weequay's station, vaulted the desk, and tackled the man to the ground. She then stuck the barrel of her blaster under his chin, gaining his attention quickly from his wounded hand.

"When you get that signal from your people that's returning the Skipray, with the Meditation Sphere and the car-like ship, you _will_ order them down near this motel, and I let you walk away alive," Mirta intoned.

"But what about my money?!" Revim cried.

Mirta spared a couple seconds just looking down at the man before looking up and turning her head for the Weequay behind her. "Hey, Vagalla, how much does Revim have in his bank account, do you know?"

"Fifty million credits, if I'm not mistaken," the Weequay answered.

The Mandalorian looked back at the thug beneath her. "Is she right? And don't lie to me."

Revim gulped nervously. "She's right, that's what I have, give or take."

"Then you have enough. Now leave this poor woman alone, or next time..." She shifted the aim of her blaster for Revim's groin. "You won't be worrying about your life so much." She shifted the aim back for his chin. "Do you understand?"

"Yes," Revim answered, looking like he was on the verge of tears.

"Good. Now, let's wait for your people to arrive in this system, shall we?"

A second later, the door to The Stop-Inn opened again, and all attention shifted to the exit.

There, Space Cop, still naked and barely covered in whipped cream this time, had arrived with a female-looking Hutt beside him.

"Vagalla," he announced, "meet Ferralla Jesda Kliurra. She's part of our threesome now."

Vagalla's expression dropped in confusion. "I thought you were a lesbian among your people," she said to the Hutt.

"More like an unrealized bisexual, as it were," Ferralla said with a proud smile on her face. "Spacey here showed me how wrong I was in believing that men were nothing more than pigs or loyal guards. Now I don't have to limit myself to women anymore!"


	13. Chapter 13

Mirta held her holdout blaster to Revim's back as the two of them, Vestara, Space Cop, Vagalla, and their latest compatriot, the Hutt Ferralla Jesda Kliurra, watched the YT-2600 carrying Ship and Space Cop's vessel descend from Nar Shaddaa's skies. It landed without hassle meters away from The Stop-Inn with its rear turned to them, where the cargo hatch opened up to reveal the Sith Meditation Sphere and the car-like ship as the only two objects inside the hatch.

Ship, without hesitation, launched from its position in the cargo hatch and flew for Vestara, where it stopped abruptly in midair and nestled next to her.

_Thank you for saving me, Lady Khai_, the Sphere communed enthusiastically in its telepathic link with Vestara.

The Sith only nodded wordlessly, not even bothering to reply; all she did was save a tool, and while the Meditation Sphere knew that, it was still grateful.

A few moments later, Space Cop piloted his own ship out of the YT's cargo hatch and settled it down next to Ship before shutting off its engines and exiting his car-like vessel. He then committed a pose in crossing his arms across his chest and leaning against the door before Vagalla and Ferralla.

"So, ladies, whaddya think o' this?" he asked the Weequay and Hutt.

While Vagalla smiled and nodded appreciatively with a seductive undertone, Ferralla looked less than amused.

"How are we supposed to fuck in that?" the Hutt asked.

Space Cop's pseudo-roguish grin dropped.

"Arrange your sex life some other time, all three of you," Mirta demanded before refocusing her attention back on Revim, who still had his back turned to her blaster. "You..." She prodded him with the barrel of her gun. "Get outta here."

Instead of obeying, Revim continued to stand there, facing the YT-2600, which had closed its cargo hatch to reveal its underbelly. There, a mounted blaster lowered from inside the ship and targeted the group's general direction. Everyone's attention shifted there as Revim turned around to face Mirta with a triumphant smirk.

"Oh, I'll leave, don't you worry about that, ma'am," he said. "But not before I leave with this dirty little slutrat." He nodded at Vagalla.

"And if we don't give Vagalla to you, you'll tell whoever's mounting that gun to blast us," Mirta concluded evenly. "Of course, there's one thing you seem to be forgetting, Revim."

"What's that?"

"You could die, too, you know," Mirta pointed out. "There's way too much of a risk that that gun'll hit you, and you won't even have time to regret delaying your departure just to get Vagalla before passing away." She enunciated the last two words with a mock-ethereal tone.

Revim's arrogant smile dropped. "Oh."

"Not that it matters anyway," Vestara chimed in.

A second later, a silver metal sphere shot out from Ship's rear and rocketed for the YT's turret, ripping it from its mount and disappearing into the distance of the street. Revim looked at the damage to the ship before looking back at the Meditation Sphere before finally returning his gaze back upon Mirta, and, by extension, Vestara.

"This just does not seem to be your day, huh?" the Sith remarked.

"Now what was that about calling me a little slutrat?" Vagalla asked with a threatening tone to Revim.

Space Cop held up a hand in front of the Weequay to prevent her from doing anything rash. "He ain't worth it, babe," he told her soberly. "He maybe weaponless here, but he's still the head of a crime cartel. You'll only give us more trouble if you do anything to him. Right now, anyway."

Vagalla looked from Space Cop to Revim, and her expression appeared to soften somewhat.

"Now, again, get outta here," Mirta demanded from the man before her, "before I decide not to listen to Space Cop's uncharacteristically sage advice."

Revim scowled, but then said, through his teeth, "Just let me tell my guys I won't be returning with Vagalla."

"You can tell 'em when you get aboard," Mirta said, not even letting him reach for his commlink. "I don't wanna see you in my sights anymore than I have to. Now quickly, 'cause my trigger-finger's getting itchy." To emphasize her point, the Mandalorian began twitching the index finger that she held against the blaster's trigger.

Revim sighed in defeat. "Fine." And with that, he turned around and headed for the YT-2600, which lowered its boarding ramp at his approach. It began closing back up just as he was walking into the ship proper.

A few moments later, it began climbing for the sky.

Then, just when it looked like it would disappear out of the atmosphere in another few seconds, it dropped something.

"Ship and I'll take care of that," Vestara said just as she was boarding the Meditation Sphere, who had already unrolled a boarding ramp for her. It took off even before it sealed the improvised breach in its hull.

"Let's get it in a tractor beam and redirect it to hit the YT," Vestara spoke aloud as Ship raced for the incoming concussion missile that Revim's departure vessel dropped.

_But, Lady Khai_, the Sphere began, _you heard Space Cop. And while I wouldn't trust that idiot with anything remotely important, he is right about_-

"Yeah, yeah, but even if we survive this, it's obvious Revim's not gonna stop here," Vestara cut off. "Might as well take him out now while we have the chance."

_Very well_, Ship agreed, obviously reluctant from its tone.

A few moments later, the Meditation Sphere closed to about several dozen meters with the missile and quickly engaged its tractor beam, catching the projectile and maneuvering it so that it was now facing the direction of the retreating YT-2600. The missile hit the YT full-on in the rear with a satisfying explosion, but the ship's rear shields held, only making it buck forward a little, and ever closer to its exit point out of the system for hyperspace. Still, with its mounted turret gone and the rest of its weapons all facing forward, as well as unable to redirect for any rear threats, the YT was a sitting duck for Ship.

"Ship, you got the balls for this?" Vestara asked.

_What?_

"I mean your silver projectiles," Vestara clarified. "Can you take that YT out before it leaves?"

_Of course. And I can see that Space Cop's sexual depravity is rubbing off on you_.

"Don't remind me," Vestara said with a raised eyebrow. Her tone grew more serious. "Fire now!"

Ship launched several silver projectiles for the YT, ripping through its energy shields and plowing through its hull. The ship exploded before it could even get the chance to expel air into the vacuum of space.

.

"Well, well," Dev'lia said as he observed the footage of the Sith Meditation Sphere's destruction of the YT-2600 on his datapad. "It appears that our little Rain has a lot more acid to her than we first thought."

"You're terrible at puns, you know," the deep voice of a centennian old man replied from around the room.

Dev'lia's expression fell into one of mock-sadness. "And you're no fun either."

"But how do you know she's piloting the eyeball-ship?" the centennian's disembodied voice asked.

"The exterior cameras that not even my security personnel know about saw that eyeball-ship get stolen by a couple o' Jedi StealthXs," Dev'lia answered. "_After_ it was decloaked from being another vessel. _And_ it arrived with another vessel that was decloaked, and, well..." Dev'lia then pressed a button beneath his datapad's screen, and the footage shifted to that of two different vessels appearing as an "eyeball-ship" and a car-like vessel. "You have the feed, sir?"

"Yeah, I see it," the centennian replied. "So you know Space Cop's here, and you didn't bother doing anything about it?"

"Oh, I'll take care of him, Mister Plinkett," Dev'lia replied. "I just wanna get Rain Sahali to dance naked for us on-stage."

"You've already seen her naked, Devvy," Plinkett replied. "If you have us waste anymore time because you wanna fuck this chick-"

"Trust me, Mister Plinkett," Dev'lia interrupted. "I know what I'm doing."

"Oh, I'm sorry, are you in charge here?" Plinkett replied. "Space Cop maybe a dunce, but he's still a threat. And now that he has a Sith _and_ a Mandalorian, both who are competent by the way, we're gonna get fucked, and not in the good way."

"Would it assure you that I already have a plan in the works, Mister Plinkett?"

"I'm listening."


	14. Chapter 14

As a blue-skinned female Twi'lek popped her breasts out of her bra on-stage to the whooping patrons of Plinkett's Poppers, erotic music courtesy of Tatooine's Mos Eisley played alongside the holoprojected background of a desert landscape behind the dancer. The dance itself was one of desperation, with the Twi'lek looking for water among the barren wasteland she pretended to be a part of, and anyone with half a brain could tell that she was stripping out of her clothes to slow down her profuse sweating. The sweating itself was actually small unnoticeable droplets coming from the ceiling above the dancer to eventually drench her.

Vestara and Mirta, who all but ignored the degrading dance on-stage, were greeted by the scummy Bothan manager in front of Plinkett's Poppers exit. "Rain!" Dev'lia said with outstretched arms at either side and his typical self-satisfied smirk. "Looks like our weather forecast has come true just in time! And by that, I mean you're right on schedule, my dear." He then placed an arm around Vestara's shoulder and began leading her to the back of the bar. "Now, if you'll just follow me."

Moments later, just as Vestara and Dev'lia reached the back of the bar, the former traded a nod with Mirta, who already sat herself at a vacant table and signaled a waitress for a drink. And with that, the Sith had disappeared backstage, where she ended up in the dressing room - or rather, undressing room, as Vestara liked to think of it - of the dancers. She continued to let herself by guided by Dev'lia toward a table with a mirror, where she sat down to briefly look over her costume and makeup appliances.

"Rain, this is Gretta, and this is Fedec," Dev'lia said as he introduced her to the Gran and Toydarian who had both moved on from the dancer who was now preparing to go on-stage. "They'll take care of you while our audience enjoys our latest performance." The perverted Bothan looked to the departed human dancer with obvious lust in his eyes - the same lust he had for Vestara, she noted.

Inwardly, the Sith sighed in disgust; bastards like Dev'lia made her think, sometimes, that her own people were higher up on the moral food chain. But alas, she sucked it up, and allowed herself to be undressed by Gretta and Fedec so they could give her the "snappable" underwear, the "poppable" bra, and the rest of the suit that she'd be able to tear off at a moment's notice for the sake of her performance. And she quietly underwent all this with the same dignified silence she displayed whenever she undressed and dressed up in front of her peers back on Kesh, who did the same before her.

Once Vestara was in costume and her makeup was properly applied, she stood up and showed off to Dev'lia, as she would no doubt have been told to do anyway. The Bothan nodded and smiled that disgusting smile of his, like he always did.

"You won't need to rehearse your routine, Rain," he said. "You'll be perfect."

While Vestara agreed with him, she nonetheless gave him a nervous smile, falsely displaying a measure of a doubt; no need to break character now, even if she was that silent when Gretta and Fedec prepared her for her performance.

Dev'lia then looked at his wrist chrono and looked back at Vestara with the ever-present sexual lust in his eyes. "It's time, Rain," he said. "Get on that stage-" He nodded at the stage's general direction without tearing his eyes away from the undercover Sith "-and make the audience as proud as you've made me." At that, it seemed like he couldn't help but emit a low growl of wanting for Rain Sahali's body.

Vestara just nodded and headed for the direction of the stage, not bothering to spare Dev'lia another look on her way there.

When she arrived bare moments later, the stage was completely dark, but Vestara could still see the audience in Plinkett's Poppers's dim lighting. But the Sith was nearly dazzled when the stage lights flashed on, and she could see a holoprojector shining in her general direction. At that point, she knew, without having to turn around or use the Force, that the projector was showing the backdrop of a rainy world behind her, which she would now have to dance and strip to for her audience's pleasure.

And so, without the slightest bit of hesitation, with only a few seconds having passed since the lights flashed on, Vestara fell back completely into the role of Rain, and, with the Force as her ultimate ally, she began dancing the same sensual way she danced when she managed to all but make Dev'lia masturbate in front of her back in her practice session yesterday. Among the crowd down in front of her, she could hear some impressed mutterings, primarily from the males, even though a few females here and there allowed their expressions to become as dirty-looking as those of the men.

It wasn't long before she tore off her top, revealing her blue poppable bra, shaded in the same aqua as that of the background behind her. By now, the audience's attention shifted completely away from the sad disposition of her face and moves, and simply began focusing not only on the moves themselves, but the sheer eroticism accompanied by Vestara's bra-clad form. A few moments later, among her swaying and her sharp strikes and poses, she tore off her aqua-toned pants, and many in the crowd allowed big satisfied, "Oooohhhs," to come out.

Then the moment came; the moment Vestara timed for with the Force, and which set Dev'lia off in howling.

She popped her top and simultaneously snapped her thong off, leaving her completely naked as she continued to dance without pause or interruption.

At this, nearly the entire crowd erupted in the loudest set of whoops and cheers Vestara ever heard in Plinkett's Poppers, and she even noted some actual ejaculations come from many of the patrons, most aimed in her general direction. Even amidst her concentration in her routine, Vestara was surprised that the patrons would actually free themselves of whatever held back their members from public.

Thankfully for her, none of the semen actually managed to reach her. The closest that the orgasmic products came to contacting her at all was the leading edge of the stage. The rest of the ejaculated sperm spouted about around the bar, slicking the floor, ceiling, walls, tables, and even several patrons; and yet very few seemed to mind, for most of the attention was on Vestara still dancing.

Eventually, the music came to its end, Vestara took her bow, and several minutes after the stage went dark, and Rain Sahali retreated backstage, the audience applause was still going.


	15. Chapter 15

Faul'irp - the Twi'lek who had Rain Sahali audition in front of her and Dev'lia the previous day - was there in the dancers' dressing room with Vestara's clothes in her arms. The undercover Sith took the bundle and quickly began dressing up as Faul'irp said, "We all saw your performance, my dear, on our datapads." The Twi'lek held hers up, which was showing a loop of Vestara dancing naked on-stage. "Dev'lia is in his office right now taking care of 'official business,' as he says. But I think you're smart enough to know what he's really doing there."

"If the audience's reaction is anything like Devvy's," Vestara said as she finished dressing back up, "I think I have more than a good idea. I don't envy whoever has to clean up his office."

"There's a back exit for you," Faul'irp said, "just past where you rehearsed." She pointed her arm in that room's direction. "Frankly, I don't think it's safe for you to leave through the front."

Vestara nodded, and followed the Twi'lek's lead. Moments later, after crossing the room where Rain Sahali displayed her natural skills as a test, the Sith looked to the Twi'lek and said, "Oh, can you make sure my guard meets me outside?"

Faul'irp nodded. "I know who she is. I'll send for her. You just stay out here for now." The Twi'lek then opened the backdoor and led Vestara out into Plinkett's Poppers's back alley, where Faul'irp then closed the door on the Sith.

A couple minutes later, Mirta rounded the only open end of the alley to meet Vestara. From the look on the Mandalorian's face, Vestara could tell that she was definitely not happy in the slightest; that may have something to do with the fact that even now, she was still coated in the semen of several members of various species.

"'Fresher was occupied," Mirta stated with held-back anger. "Couldn't clean myself off."

"I didn't think there were that many females in the bar," Vestara remarked.

"_Both_ 'freshers were occupied because the men's 'fresher had already been filled to the brim with guys cleaning themselves off. Now the ladies' room is accepting male customers."

Vestara nodded in understanding.

"_Why_ did you have to use the Force to influence everyone's minds in there?" Mirta asked.

Vestara lifted an eyebrow in question. "How'd you know that?"

"You were good, I'll admit, but not that good," Mirta answered. "You used the Force to make them more attracted to you; that way, with a bigger reaction, Plinkett'll think that you deserve to see him."

"The sooner, the better, I say," Vestara replied. "It seems I kinda overplayed my hand, didn't I?"

"Ya think?" Mirta retorted angrily as she waved her hands up and down her semen-covered form.

"Yeah, sorry about that," Vestara replied awkwardly, all the while rubbing the back of her head.

Mirta leveled a finger up at her. "You're lucky I didn't kill anyone in there. And you're lucky I don't kill you right here, right now, because if other lives weren't at stake because of Plinkett, you'd be dead meat, Khai."

"I thought you were in it for the money," Vestara pointed out.

Mirta growled. "Let's just get back to The Stop-Inn so I can wash this osik off."

Vestara nodded and walked past the Mandalorian to begin walking back to their hotel.

"Well, look on the bright side," Vestara said as they walked side-by-side back to The Stop-Inn. "It can't get any worse than this."

Mirta groaned. "Why'd you have to say that?"

"What?"

"Whenever something like what happened today happens and someone says it can't get any worse, it gets worse."

"Oh, what are the chances of that happening?"

.

"Of course!" Mirta nearly exclaimed after she and Vestara entered the foyer of The Stop-Inn. "Of course this is what happens!" She jerked her arms out to the scene in front of her, then looked at Vestara. "What did I tell ya?"

"Hey, it's not my fault this is happening," Vestara countered.

Mirta sighed angrily before slapping her semen-ridden palms to her semen-ridden forehead.

The scene before them was utter chaos, as a myriad of women of various species scampered and frolicked around the lobby in a wild party. Modern technopop music blared in the background from somewhere back in the room, and what was just a dirty hotel was now a dirty hotel being completely trashed by the drunk and stoned women who were in various levels of undress.

Being the only two women in the lobby who were sober, Vestara and Mirta went in search of Space Cop, and sure enough, they found him in the center of the anarchy, naked and lying on the Hutt Ferralla's massive belly. All around her were women who were consuming various edible and drinkable sexual lubricants off her worm-like body as she lay on the floor like an over-sized beanbag. Space Cop was really no better, as Vagalla was in the process of not only licking off whipped cream from his crotch, but also simultaneously giving him a blowjob.

And to top off his hedonism, he was smoking a marijuana joint the size of a human fist. His drug-induced euphoria, combined with the sensual pleasure he was receiving from Vagalla, ensured Vestara and Mirta that he was in no shape whatsoever to be questioned.

"I'm starting to think the money might not be worth it," Mirta remarked to Vestara without either of them turning away from the sight of Space Cop's hedonism; not that they liked what they saw, but to them, it was like watching a terrorist act occur - it was impossible to look away otherwise.

"Wanna stop this party?" Vestara asked her Mandalorian counterpart.

Mirta shrugged. "Even if we did, Space Cop would probably just as well declare the beginning of the after-party."

"Then we'll make sure that doesn't occur either," Vestara said. She began searching the woman-filled lobby. "Now where's the recorder blaring this kriffing music-"

Vestara was cut off when a wild Rodian female just tackled Mirta from behind, sending them both to the floor, and then the green-skinned humanoid began licking the semen off the stunned Mandalorian. The Rodian was then quickly joined by several other drunk and stoned women in overpowering Mirta, and they, too, began lapping up the semen as if they were akk dogs taking up water.

"Khai, get these bitches off me!" Mirta called.

"Why are you complaining, they're already cleaning you up," Vestara remarked with a subtly wicked smile.

"Khai!"

"Alright, alright, you may have to wait a minute," Vestara said before departing.

"No, wait, don't leave me here!" Mirta called out.

"Hey, bitch," the Rodian who originally tackled Mirta said next to her face. "Wanna have some 'stim?" She held out a joint of flimsiplast with a sparkling substance inside.

A few minutes later, Vestara located the massive recorder in the back of the lobby, and then unhooked and activated her lightsaber to slash it in two. And as the music died off, everyone else in the room suddenly stopped what they were doing and turned to the woman who had just halted their fun.

"Party's over," Vestara proclaimed. "Take your after-party somewhere else."

"Whatcha talkin' bout, bitch?!" Mirta's voice called in an uncharacteristically cheery tone. "We gonna party like it's de end of the galaxy! Whoooo! C'mon, bitches, let's continue!"

Everyone's attention shifted to Mirta, who was now standing up, still partially slicked in multi-species semen, but who continued her whoops of delight as she began stripping off her armor. The rest of the women around her cheered her on, and they resumed their chaotic frolicking even without music.

Vestara looked at the stripping Mirta to find what changed her, and used the Force to detect that her body was now on a drug that, typical of most drugs' effects, impaired her judgment. Now she was no better than any of the other women around her.

Vestara sighed in defeat and shrugged. _Well_, she thought, _if you can't beat 'em, might as well join 'em_. She then signaled to one of the women for a whiff of an obviously drug-laced cigarra.


	16. Chapter 16

Vestara's eyes flashed open from the alcohol and drug-induced slumber from the party the previous night, and she found herself lying completely naked - as she seemed to be these days - on the floor of The Stop-Inn's lobby. Her clothes, along with Mirta's armor and Space Cop's own Space Police Department uniform, were scattered all around the lobby, with Mirta also sleeping nude on the floor a little ways away. The damage from the party was evident all around, with the viewports smashed, the walls bearing major dents in their structures, and cups of spilled alcohol, joints, cigarras, and other ways of injecting and ingesting drugs littered the floor all around.

Other than that, the dirty lobby was empty, with no trace of Space Cop or any of the other women from the party the previous night.

Shaking her head of the hangover pounding in her head, Vestara roughly pushed herself to her feet, began walking around the lobby to collect her clothes, and put them on in the process. By the time she was done, she headed over to Mirta's unconscious form and nudged her foot in the Mandalorian's side. The older woman woke up with a pained groan, grasping one hand to her head before blinking her eyes and looking up at Vestara with a confused look.

"Get dressed," the Sith told her counterpart.

"What?" Mirta then looked up at her body and screamed, quickly forming into a fetal position to hide her groin and breasts. But when she looked around to find that it was only her and Vestara, she uncurled from her position and asked, "Where're the others?"

"Do you really care?" the Sith asked. "Oh, right, Space Cop's our payroll, I forgot. Well, might as well look for him."

"What about your other job today?" Mirta asked as she stood up and began circling the room to collect her underclothes and armor.

Vestara looked at the chrono placed on the lobby's back wall before looking back to Mirta, who had swiftly placed her bra and underwear back on herself. "I have a couple hours," the Sith answered. "I can spare 'em."

Moments later, Mirta was back in her armor completely and nodded at Vestara. "Alright, let's find that idiot," the Mandalorian said before she and the Sith headed out the door.

They didn't have to stay out for long, for they found Space Cop, still naked and traces of whipped cream still on and around his groin, snoring deeply with his back against the dumpster off to the side.

"Well, that was surprisingly easy. Wanna carry him in?" Mirta asked her counterpart.

Vestara nodded, then reached one hand out in Space Cop's direction to use the Force to levitate him off the ground by less than a meter. They then turned back to The Stop-Inn and headed on in with their unconscious charge floating behind them.

Once the three of them were all inside, Space Cop suddenly awoke and proclaimed, "Ah! Mike, Jay, fix my fucking VCR for once!" At that, he let out a quick yelp when Vestara released him in the Force and let him drop to the floor on his back. He then sat up, looked around, and said, "Oh."

"Not that I care," Mirta said, "but what happened to all your guests?"

"If you didn't care, why do you ask?" Space Cop countered.

Mirta shrugged. "More curious than anything."

Space Cop looked at the Mandalorian with a sensuous smirk. "Anything to look at me naked, huh?"

"At this point, I've gotten used to it," Mirta replied stoically.

Space Cop's face dropped in disappointment. "Well, they all woke up before me, got dressed, and headed out. I got up just when the last of 'em left, and I tried to follow, but I passed out in front of the dumpster. No special story there, I'm afraid. Well, anyway, does anyone wanna play Scrabble?"

"What?" Vestara and Mirta asked simultaneously.

"I got it in my space car," Space Cop said as he got up. "It's a very fun game, I promise."

"Does it involve any sexual activities?" Vestara asked.

"Not if we don't make it Strip Scrabble," Space Cop said. "But if we're gonna do that, I gotta get my clothes first. Wouldn't wanna peal off my flesh in layers now."

"Actually, I'd prefer to strip you of your flesh for all that you put us through, but then we wouldn't get our money for any of this to pay off," Mirta said. "But, yes, put your clothes on. It's better for all of us if you did."

.

In the Jedi Temple on Shedu Maad, there was a knock on Grand Master Luke Skywalker's office door.

"Come," Luke said as he continued to shift through all the reports on his datapad behind his desk.

The door slid open, and Master Cilghal and Jedi Knight Tekli stepped into the room. Luke set his 'pad down and gave the two Jedi his full attention.

"Grand Master Skywalker," Cilghal began, "as you already know, Jedi Knights Sarkin-Tainer, Soroc, and Ferava were assigned to Nal Hutta's moon of Nar Shaddaa to investigate the whereabouts of the Sith Meditation Sphere piloted by Vestara Khai."

Luke nodded for the Mon Calamari to continue.

"Well, neither of the three Knights have returned from Nar Shaddaa by now, nor have any of them sent out any calls or answered any of our own," Cilghal continued. "Therefore, would you be able to spare anyone to investigate Nar Shaddaa as to the whereabouts of our Knights, along with the Meditation Sphere and Khai?"

"I'll send Master Solo Fel and Jedi Veila to investigate," Luke informed the Mon Calamari. "Thank you for bringing this to my attention, Master Cilghal."

Both Cilghal and Tekli bowed, then turned and left the office. Luke then took out his commlink and keyed for Jaina's frequency.

"Yeah?" the feminine voice came from the other end.

"Jaina, I have an assignment for you and Tahiri."


	17. Chapter 17

"Ah, Rain!" Dev'lia said as Vestara entered through the rear entrance of Plinkett's Poppers. "After yesterday, you're a smart girl to come in through the back." As the undercover Sith stopped past the threshold of the entrance/exit, Dev'lia approached her and placed a furry hand on her shoulder, accompanied by his usual perverted smile. "Wouldn't want my prize dancer to get... spoiled, as it were, by any of our patrons out front."

Vestara repressed her urge to growl at the Bothan, and instead put on a nervous smile.

An awkward moment then passed between them as Dev'lia took his hand off Vestara's shoulder, but in doing so, he slid his hand down the length of her arm before slipping it away from her fingertips. He then offered a low growl of satisfaction just from doing that, and the Sith just maintained her smile, though she put in a little bit more false nervousness there just for added effect.

"You know," Dev'lia went on, "that was such a great performance you put on, my dear, that my employer is very interested in meeting you."

"He is?" Rain Sahali asked in her scared undertone. Inwardly, however, Vestara grinned. _Now we can be done with all this_, she thought.

Dev'lia nodded. "He wants you to put on a private dance, just for him. And don't worry, there's no need to change your performance; in his mind, it's already perfect." His tone and expression then became completely business-like. "My employer, Mister Plinkett, has already called for an aircab to come here. It'll be here in about thirty minutes and'll stop in front of the bar. Again, I think you know it's a good idea for you to leave through the exit there and go around." He pointed in the direction that Vestara entered through. "'Til then, you can just sit back in the dressing room and relax."

"Thank you, Devvy," Vestara said in her mousie tone before circling around her perverted manager and heading to the dressing room, as he told her.

"Oh, by the way, Rain," Dev'lia said before Vestara could open the door leading to the other room. The Sith stopped and turned back to the Bothan. "I almost forgot. Your bodyguard's out front with the other patrons, right?"

"She's always here whenever I'm at work, Devvy," Vestara replied. "Why? Is there something wrong?"

"Oh, no, nothing wrong, nothing wrong at all," Dev'lia replied in a rushed tone that indicated the exact opposite of what he said. Then his tone became more professional and as courteous as it could get given his usual disposition. "Say... do you think you can have her take a day off? You know, just for today?"

Even without having to use the Force, Vestara knew what he was already thinking; Plinkett can handle one dancer, but a dancer with a bodyguard with the skills of a Mandalorian, that might get too hard. Still, Vestara wasn't getting much of a reading through Dev'lia's aura through the Force anyway; in spite of his personality always making it seem like he was on the verge of raping the closest attractive female from him, he was a strong-minded individual. And getting anything really substantial on him through the Force was as hard as reading it through that of a typical Hutt's. Vestara could imagine that if he were a moronic Bothan in the past, he probably traded that in to the Force for a smarter mind and a tighter aura but less control of his sexual urges.

Nevertheless, it would probably be better not to argue with Dev'lia right now, not after all she did as a dancer in Plinkett's Poppers for the past couple of days. Besides, she'd be able to take on Plinkett herself. And as much as Vestara would love to neuter the perverted Bothan in front of her with her lightsaber, it would only be marginally less satisfactory if she left Mirta to murder this bastard.

"I suppose she could take the day off," Vestara agreed.

But instead of moving on, Dev'lia offered a slightly confused look. "You're not gonna ask why?"

Now it was Vestara's turn to be confused. "Should I?"

Dev'lia shrugged. "Well, seeing as how you were smart enough to come in through the back to avoid the patrons who'd probably rape you for the performance you gave yesterday," the Bothan pointed out in a matter-of-fact way, "I figured you'd be smart enough to ask why you should tell your bodyguard to take the rest of the day off."

Vestara let her mouth drop, but she did so in a way that made it seem more in character for Rain Sahali than it did out of the realization that she very briefly broke the character of an innocent naive girl with nothing else in life.

Dev'lia, however, quickly changed his scrutinizing gaze upon her back into that disgusting grin of his and offered a small chuckle. "I'm just messin' with ya, Rain," he said with a shake of his head.

"Oh," Vestara replied with an understanding nod, then resumed her nervous smile, accompanying it with a brief forced laugh.

Dev'lia then became business-like again. "So you'll send your bodyguard off for the day?"

"Uh, sure," Vestara answered innocently. She then pointed to the commlink on her belt. "Can I comm her?"

"Yes, yes, no need for you to go out to the front today," Dev'lia said with a wave of his hand.

Vestara then took out her comm and typed in Mirta's frequency. At the Mandalorian's answer to the call, the Sith said in her Rain Sahali tone, "Hey, Mirta? You wanna take the rest of the day off?"

"You sure you're gonna be okay?" Mirta asked.

"Yeah, yeah, I'll be fine," Vestara assured her in her uncertain tone, even though she meant what she said.

There was a short pause. "If you say so," Mirta said. "Goodbye then."

"Bye." Vestara then signed off on the comm.

"Mirta, huh?" Dev'lia asked.

Vestara looked at her manager with suspicion creeping into her expression. "What?"

"Oh, nothing," Dev'lia said defensively. "Nothing at all."

Vestara quickly resumed her innocent disposition, and left the rehearsal room for the dressing room to wait for the aircab Plinkett would send.


	18. Chapter 18

Vestara left Plinkett's Poppers through its rear exit just a minute earlier than the aircab that Plinkett himself sent for was predicted to arrive. Dev'lia wasn't there to see her off, thankfully; she presumed that he was in his office, either taking care of some actual business related to the bar, or probably just jerking off to recordings of the bar's dancers. She shivered in thinking that that perverted bastard was watching replays of her performance yesterday.

She pulled herself out of that line of thinking when the cab finally arrived and settled down to hover just at her level. She opened the door to the backseat area, climbed on in, closed the door, and relaxed in her spot.

_Soon_, she thought, _this'll all be over, Plinkett'll die, Dev'lia will die, and I can leave this kriffing moon and never come back_.

It was at that point when she took notice of the aircab's driver. He was a fat fair-skinned human male who looked like he was either in his late nineties or in his early hundreds; Vestara wondered why this guy hadn't retired yet. His stubble lacked the heavy grey in his hair, his old-fashioned sunglasses hid his eyes, he wore a plain white cap that looked like it'd been flattened in an iron, and he only wore a dirty white undershirt.

Vestara's danger sense didn't register him as a threat until it was too late.

"Gotcha, bitch," the man said in a low bass voice.

He pressed a button on the driver's door that not only locked both doors leading out of the backseat area, but which also lowered a blast shield separating the front and backseats of the cab. Quickly, Vestara unhooked and activated her lightsaber and struck at the blast shield, but the blade ricocheted back and nearly cleaved her in two. She then struck at the window of the door to her left, but again, the blade ricocheted off.

Then, before Vestara could come up with a way to escape her predicament, a green gas suddenly seeped out from the floor and ceiling, and in a few seconds, not only had Vestara's blade extinguished, but so did her consciousness.

.

Sitting behind his office desk and looking through the revenue numbers for the bar - something he was actually supposed to do - Dev'lia was brought out of his concentration when his commlink chimed on his belt. He reached it, took it off, and activated it. "Hello?"

"I got her," Plinkett's voice came on the other end. "You can move in on that Mando bitch now."

"I hear ya, Mister Plinkett," Dev'lia responded. "Will that be all?"

Instead of getting an answer, the commlink went silent with Plinkett turning off his comm from the other end.

"Apparently, it is," Dev'lia remarked under his breath as he keyed for the linked frequency of his guards in the bar.

"Gargo, Jerlacca, Taggert," Dev'lia said. "You all read me?"

"Loud and clear, boss," Gargo reported.

Jerlacca roared an affirmative on his end.

"Yes, sir?" Simon Taggert asked.

"It's time," Dev'lia said. "You all know what you have to do."

"On my way now, boss," Gargo said.

Jerlacca gave another affirmative roar.

"Over and out, sir," Taggert said.

Dev'lia then cut the communication and went back to work.

.

Taggert knew what the plan was; Gargo would flirt with Mirta, who'd no doubt spurn his advances, but it would serve as enough of a distraction for Jerlacca to order a drink, spike it with the poison Dev'lia provided, and then hand it off to one of the waitresses, who was also paid off as part of the plan. At that point, Gargo would hail that waitress and she'd come over to provide the drinks for him and Mirta, and the waitress would also drop a hint as to which drink had the poison so Gargo would know which drink to give.

The Mandalorian would then drink the poisoned beverage - if only to get Gargo off her back at any rate - and then she'd quietly die. Everyone else in the bar would think she passed out and take no further notice of her; not when the dancers on-stage hogged most of the attention for themselves, and if not them, alcohol fogged up even the most attentive minds fairly well. By the end of the day, once the bar closed, only then would her carcass be disposed of.

And all Taggert had to do during the process was make sure that nothing bad happened in the bar during the few minutes that killing Mirta would take.

At this point, Plinkett was as good as dead. It was time to get rid of this charade.

Taggert squatted and then, with all the effort his sphincter muscles could muster, he shit out his arm-sized laser gun.

Those who were nearby turned and looked at what happened. Taggert ignored them as he bent down, hefted his gun, and then aimed it at Dev'lia's office door. He squeezed off a quick laser burst, the metal to Dev'lia's office blew inward, and chaos overran Plinkett's Poppers in a second.

.

Vestara's vision was cloudy for only a few seconds before she completely woke up. After her vision cleared, though, she found herself in what appeared to be a basement that looked like it was constructed mainly out of wood, with very few metal products lining the wooded areas. She was sitting on the cold, dusty, metal grey floor of the basement, which had no windows for her to figure out where she was, and her arms were tied behind her to a dingy old pipe that, from what she could see from her vantage point, didn't look rusted enough to break out of even with her regular strength unaided by the Force.

And it was precisely her regular strength that she could go on at this point, for it was because of the sole ysalamari in the room just a few meters away, lounging on the potted olbio tree there, that emitted a Force-repressing bubble that rendered her supernatural abilities completely useless. The only other remarkable things in the room was a brown reclining chair only a few meters away, and off to the right was a small cabinet. Around the sides of the chair was a bright light streaming around it.

It was then that Vestara realized that her hearing had now returned to her, and she was now listening to the bass voice of the driver who knocked her out in the aircab singing in some kind of alien language that she wasn't familiar with. Accompanied with his voice was exotic music that sounded like it was recorded, and the verse he sung ended in Basic with, "Anything goes."

Vestara looked around the chair and saw that the driver, who she could see was sitting in the chair, was watching an old-fashioned television set that featured a fair-skinned blonde human woman in a red dress with yellow linings singing in that alien language. Around the woman were a bunch of yellow-skinned human females that danced exotically around the singing white woman, and as the singing went, the driver from the aircab continued to sing along.

The old man suddenly stopped singing and muttered, "Hmm?" He then lifted the remote control that rested on the left arm of his chair, pushed a button, and the feature playing on the screen froze. The man then set the remote back down, stood up, and turned.

"Oh, good, you're awake," he said in a friendly tone. "You know, I was wondering, maybe we could get a cup of coffee or something."

Vestara looked at the old man in confusion. "What?"

"Oh, right, I'm sorry, I forgot to introduce maself," the old man said. "I'm the guy Space Cop sent you to kill."

"You're Plinkett?" Vestara asked.

"No, my name is Dickie Roberts, former child star," the old man replied sarcastically. "OF COURSE MY NAME IS HARRY S. PLINKETT, YOU DUMB BITCH!"

Vestara winced at the ferocity of the old man's swinging emotions.

"Now," Plinkett said somberly, "there's something I wanna show you. It's a pain I wish to share." He turned and headed over to the cabinet in the corner.

Once he got there, he pulled open the top drawer, withdrew three blank cases of rectangular white boxes, closed the drawer, and headed back to his chair in a ceremonial way. He placed the boxes on his seat, took up the remote again, pressed a button, and the frozen screen on the TV was replaced with a blue background with white text saying, **DVD**. It was then that Vestara noticed the rectangular device beneath the TV had something slide out of it.

Plinkett then took the circular object that was on the sliding thing and placed it in the open rectangular box atop the TV, which appeared to have something on it; but from this distance, Vestara couldn't tell what it was. He then returned to the chair, opened up one of the boxes there, withdrew another circular object, and headed back over to the TV, where he placed it in what Vestara assumed was called a DVD.

"Now," Plinkett said, "you will begin knowing my pain."

Moments later, after the **DVD** screen snapped to blackness, loud, blaring yet triumphant-feeling music blared as a grand logo seemed to zoom away from the TV, which said, **STAR WARS**. The familiar sound of a Jedi lightsaber igniting then added the text, **EPISODE I: THE PHANTOM MENACE**, beneath it.

After that image faded away to be replaced by the ancient Theed Palace on Naboo - one of the few historical things she recognized in the galaxy - with text to the side saying, **PLAY, OPTIONS, SCENE SELECTION**, and something else that Vestara couldn't read, and new music replaced the background. She noticed that the **PLAY** text was highlighted in yellow while the others were in either green or blue. Again, Plinkett pressed a button on his remote that made the yellow on **PLAY** disappear, and then the Theed Palace image vanished.

"Okay, _now_, it begins," Plinkett said awkwardly.

.

The second Taggert blew open Dev'lia's office door, everyone in the bar, including the naked Togruta dancer on-stage, suddenly began screaming and milling about in anarchy.

Knowing that it was all over anyway, Mirta abruptly stood up from her seat, making it fly back a little ways behind her, and quickly withdrew her blaster from her holster. She fired straight into the forehead of the human bouncer, Gargo, which only added to the chaos around her. She then shifted her aim toward the Wookiee guard, Jerlacca, but found him nowhere in sight.

That was until he seemed to manifest from under her table and tackled her backward to the table behind her with a loud battle roar. He knocked her blaster out of her hand with a strong paw, then grasped both hands around her neck to squeeze the life out of her.

Thinking fast, even with white spots forming around her vision, Mirta managed to shake her left hand in a way that withdrew her vibroblade from beneath the armor covering her forearm. She then stabbed it into Jerlacca's side, making him roar louder and painfully this time, but his grip on her airway loosened considerably. She then pulled the vibroblade along his side until he decided to grab her vibroblade-wielding arm with one hand, press down on her chest with the other, and prepared to wrench her arm clean from her body.

Thankfully, Mirta managed to make a literal slight of hand that shifted the vibroblade's direction from pointing straight outward so that it was now oriented at Jerlacca's head. The Wookiee noticed this and emitted a low, curious groan.

Another slight of hand, and the blade flew free, stabbing straight between the Wookiee's eyes. The massive alien stood still for a moment before falling off to the side dead.

Mirta then stood up from the table Jerlacca pinned her to, and looked past the wailing patrons in the direction of Dev'lia's office. She then looked down to the floor off to her left to find her blaster being unintentionally kicked throughout the bar by the frightened people.

Rolling her eyes - knowing that she wasn't going to get her gun back anytime soon - she reached for Jerlacca's corpse to retrieve her vibroblade, pulled it out from his face, and placed it back to where it was fired from. Mirta then took out her backup blaster from a pocket in her armored leg and began moving past the milling crowd to Dev'lia's office, where she entered to find Taggert looking up through a hole in the room's ceiling that revealed Nar Shaddaa's skies, and the Bothan manager's table overturned, presumably to act as a shield against Taggert's fire.

"He blasted a hole through the ceiling with his gun before trading any shots with me," Taggert explained. "He then fired a grappling gun and scaled out of here so fast, I couldn't get a clean shot."

"We'll find him," Mirta said. "Gimme a boost, will ya?"

Taggert nodded, squatted, lowered his gun to the floor, then one hand over the other in preparation of propelling Mirta up through the air. The Mandalorian then stepped on his hands, and she flew straight up. Once she passed the whole, she executed a backward flip, landed on her feet like a cat, then flattened herself to the roof to reach out a hand for Taggert. The gorilla man then took back his gun from the floor, leaped up, grabbed her hand with one of his, and used his momentum to carry himself the rest of the way up.

With that out of the way, they then looked around for evidence of Dev'lia.

"There!" Mirta pointed to the roof of a nearby building.

They saw the red-furred form of Dev'lia leaping off that roof from the other end and firing another grappling line for another building.

"Does your gun have a grappling mechanism?" Mirta asked.

"Oh, yeah," Taggert said. "Yours?"

Mirta nodded.

"Then let's get him," Taggert said before switching the mode on his gun from **KILL** to **GRAPPLE**, just as Mirta did.

The two of them then rushed to the Dev'lia-facing direction of Plinkett's Poppers's roof, fired their grappling hooks, and swung off.

Moments later, once Dev'lia took a look behind him to find Mirta and Taggert were after him, he turned back, rushed to the edge of the roof he was on and grappled for the underside of a nearby aircab. He then pressed the retract button there, and he zipped all the way up. Once he reached the underside, he took one hand off his gun, unleashed some talons, and struck them to the side of the driver's door so that they stabbed there. He then swung away from the cab's underside and elbowed his right elbow against the viewport, smashing through it, and carrying himself inside.

He tackled the dark-skinned human cabbie out of his seat, choking him on his safety harness, and then stabbed his claws through the human's throat to end his misery. He then cut the restraint, shoved the corpse out the broken window, and quickly took over the aircab, which was veering off slightly in the air thanks to the cabbie's death.

However, after a brief look in his rearview mirrpanel, Dev'lia saw Mirta and Taggert atop the freighter truck that was following him only a few meters away. They fired their guns for him so that their cables stuck to the back before Dev'lia could do anything about it, then they zipped on over to the rear.

This time, however, Dev'lia figured he could do something about that. He quickly threw the aircab in reverse so that its rear end collided with the truck and kill Mirta and Taggert. But by then, the two of them had already rolled onto the cab's roof so that all that the inevitable collision did was buck the aircab forward and send the Mandalorian and gorilla man onto the hood of the cab's engine. They lodged the suctions of their guns to the hood of the cab so they didn't fall off, but before they could do anything else, Dev'lia took the vehicle down in a steep dive for the ground.

Once the cab was a few dozen meters from the ground, Dev'lia then opened the driver's door, jumped out, and fired his ascension gun for the side of a building nearby. His momentum swung him over to the viewport of a building nearby, where he crashed through it and rolled inside to find himself in the apartment of an Aqualish family. He didn't say a word to the startled aliens as he rushed for the exit.

Meanwhile, Mirta and Taggert had already fired their own ascension guns for the very same building, and they were carried safely away from the aircab's destructive explosion once it hit the ground. The two of them, after swinging to the wall of the building up ahead, planted their feet there to prevent themselves from bashing against it, and then zipped themselves up so they'd reach the window Dev'lia crashed through.

After passing through the twice-startled Aqualish family's apartment, Mirta and Taggert made it out to the hallway and looked to the direction of a turbolift, which just opened its doors. At that, Dev'lia suddenly appeared from around the corner to the right, firing blindly to his pursuers as he entered the lift. Even after they took cover back in the Aqualish apartment, Dev'lia continued to fire until the lift doors closed.

A couple seconds later, once Mirta and Taggert felt that it was safe to peer out of the apartment, they saw from the numbers placed above the turbolift doors that it was heading upward.

"Blow the doors!" Mirta commanded.

"What?" Taggert asked.

"Just do it!" Mirta commanded.

Taggert didn't argue any further, set his gun from **GRAPPLE** back to **KILL**, and fired at the turbolift doors, blowing them open. Mirta then rushed over to the turbolift entryway, then fired several shots at the mechanisms controlling the lift's ascent. She looked up, saw the elevator seize, and then begin to plummet quickly.

Mirta quickly brought herself back in so that she wasn't taken with the falling turbolift. Then, after it passed, she leaned back in and looked up to find what she expected; Dev'lia had already escaped and was zip-lining up to the roof's level.

Mirta then switched her blaster back to **GRAPPLE** and fired up, with Taggert following behind her. Once they were halfway to their destination, which was only a few floors below Dev'lia, however, the Bothan himself had already reached the level of the building's roof, and was now perched on the ledge of the closed elevator doors leading to the roof, his back to those doors. He hurriedly switched his blaster from **GRAPPLE** to **KILL** and fired down at the cables of Mirta and Taggert's ascension guns. The cables promptly snapped from the sizzling bolts and sent the Mandalorian and gorilla man plummeting back to the bottom of the turbolift shaft.

Halfway there, though, Taggert, deciding to let go of his giant gun, managed to grab onto the ledge of one of the floors he and Mirta were falling past and managed to use his free hand to catch her from plummeting any further, and just when the turbolift finally reached the bottom and exploded. The flames expanded upward and remained that way until they were just less than a dozen meters from Mirta and Taggert's hanging forms. The both of them could feel the intensely hot air threatening to boil them before it eventually cooled down so that the fire was now isolated in the shaft's lowest levels, even as it consumed Taggert's gun, which only made a stream of fire leap up for a few seconds before dying back down.

Mirta and Taggert both looked up and found that Dev'lia was now facing the turbolift doors leading out of the shaft and onto the roof. He was now trying to pull the doors open, and even from their distance from him, both the Mandalorian and gorilla man could tell that he had made a few inches progress.

"Heft me up to the ledge here!" Mirta said to Taggert. "I need to get as close as I can!"

"But we're too far!" Taggert grunted in his effort from keeping the both of them from falling to the fire below.

"We have to try!" Mirta proclaimed.

Taggert hesitated, but relented and hauled Mirta up to the ledge he was holding onto. She managed to swing her body around so that her back was to the closed turbolift doors behind her, and then she aimed her gun up to Dev'lia's direction.

She closed one eye, selected her target, and fired.

Five seconds later, just as Dev'lia was just about done opening up the lift doors, the red bolt Mirta shot off struck the Bothan straight up his crotch. Dev'lia screamed in pain, grasped both hands to his groin, and before the doors in front of him even closed, his screams became mixed with fear as he plummeted back down the elevator shaft, helpless to do anything before he ended up consumed by the inferno down below.

After sparing a few seconds of watching Dev'lia fall into the fire below, Mirta and Taggert looked back to each other.

"You think you can open these doors behind me?" Mirta asked.

Taggert nodded and pulled himself up to the ledge.

.

Vestara was in tears once the credits to the film _Star Wars: Episode III: Revenge of the Sith_ rolled before saying, "That was so beautiful! I never knew that Ben's grandfather had to go through all that!" She sniffed a little before saying, "And Palpatine's a monster even for a Sith!"

At that, Plinkett yelled out and backed away Vestara. "Get away from me, you truly dumb bitch!" Plinkett said, even though Vestara was still strapped to the pipe behind her. He collapsed back into his reclining chair, which he moved out of the way of the TV for Vestara. "How could you even _like_ these movies, let alone _love_ them?!"

"I thought they were good!" Vestara exclaimed. "Especially _Attack of the Clones_. I thought that was really romantic." She sighed. "I wish Ben and I had that kind of relationship."

Plinkett was speechless, his mouth wide open as he stared at Vestara in disbelief. He then pounded on the arms of his chair with his meaty fists while proclaiming, "No!" He pounded on them again and repeated, "No!" He did so again, and again, and again, until his shouts of, "No!" became savage screams, and the pounding on his chair's arms became so frenetic that they seemed to be moving at a supersonic speed.

Then, all of a sudden, his face exploded into a pile of gore, the flesh carrying his glasses clattering to the floor near Vestara's feet. His denuded face continued to explode with small bursts of blood all around until his whole head exploded into gore.

And with that, his headless body collapsed forward off the chair, dead.

Then, as if Plinkett's death were the catalyst for what would happen next, the ceiling above the olbio-stationed ysalamari nearby gave out as a bed came crashing through, crushing the animal and its plant. From that, Vestara felt the Force return completely to her, allowing her to snap out of her chains and stand up.

She looked at the bed, and found Space Cop, naked once again, in the midst of a sexual climax on a blow-up doll. He then rolled off the doll and collapsed back into the bed in bliss.

"What are you doing here?" Vestara asked, uncaring of his mood right now.

Space Cop looked in her direction. "Well, it turns out those girls at the party last night had a lot of angry boyfriends and girlfriends who didn't like the orgy that the party became."

Vestara visibly shivered at the thought that she was involved in an orgy and didn't remember it. She'd better not tell Mirta that, considering that the Mandalorian was married, and not in an open way.

"So I decided to hide out here, and I even bought a new fuck buddy at a local sex store nearby," he said, indicating the blow-up doll next to him. "It seems I had a little too much fun here and... broke the floor beneath this bed from rocking it so much. Anyway, what are you doing here?"

"Well, Plinkett kidnapped me and..."

She trailed off when she found that Plinkett's body, along with the gore that came from him, were all gone.

"He's gone," she whispered in horror.

"For now," Space Cop replied seriously. "In either case, he'll go back home and relive his simple life again."

Vestara looked back at him. "What do you mean?"

"Plinkett can never truly die," Space Cop explained. "He can only be stopped every so often. The only thing anyone can ever do is keep him at bay."

"Just like Abeloth," Vestara said in horror as she looked back at where Plinkett was. "Except Abeloth has a chance of dying forever." She fell silent at this revelation.

"Say, uh..." Space Cop interjected awkwardly. "I just fell through six storeys, so you don't mind if I go upstairs to get my clothes and get outta here?" When Vestara didn't answer, Space Cop said, "Alright, I'll just go anyway." He then walked over to the door leading out of the basement, unlocked it, and left. A few seconds later, however, after a woman gave a brief scream outside, Space Cop returned. "It seems I can't go out that way. I guess I'll just have to climb up from here." He stood up on the bed, jumped up, and grabbed at the edge of the hole he fell through; however, it gave out on him and he fell past the bed and back to the floor. When he landed, he screamed, "Ow, my balls and ass!"


	19. Chapter 19

Roughly two days following their departure from Shedu Maad, Jedi Master Jaina Solo Fel and Knight Tahiri Veila observed the wreckage of Plinkett's Poppers from the vantage point of their airspeeder hovering twenty meters above the bar's ruins.

"This was where Jedi Soroc and Ferava were assigned to investigate this Plinkett character," Jaina, seated in the pilot seat, reminded Tahiri in the passenger seat beside her. "According to the police reports, a riot broke out inside that led to it burning to the ground. Some of the patrons, including a few dancers, died in the fire."

"Bot not all of 'em," Tahiri pointed out. "Which means we can still ask around a few people. You have anything on the dancers and the patrons?"

Jaina brought up her datapad and did a quick search. "Nothing on the patrons; their identities were all kept surprisingly confidential by the bar's records. I guess we could ask around, but considering that this is the Smugglers' Moon, I don't think the people here'll take too kindly to Jedi investigating them."

"And the same won't be with the dancers?" Tahiri asked.

Jaina shrugged. "I don't think we need to worry about them too much." She looked back to her datapad. "Here's the first dancer, over at 1860 Desilijic Street." She set her datapad back to the floor next to her and made off to that address.

Over the course of the next several hours, however, Jaina and Tahiri didn't pick any leads on Harry S. Plinkett from any of the dancers, or their respective lovers and families, who didn't take kindly to the Jedi's presence. The only thing they got from a few of them was that their bar's manager, Dev'lia, had died in a turbolift shaft fire around the same time Jaina and Tahiri left Shedu Maad, and even he didn't know where Plinkett was anyway.

As for what happened to Vestara Khai and Mirta Gev, they picked up no clues, other than a sighting of what was rumored to be the Sith Meditation Sphere known as Ship and a strange car-like vessel with it turning into otherwise regular ships. Those ships' jumps into hyperspace were never recorded, and the Nar Shaddaan orbital operator was fired for his carelessness. He claimed, however, that he didn't know what happened, other than that he was somehow persuaded by a female voice on the other line not to record their jumps to hyperspace.

No doubt it was Vestara using a mind-trick on him in the comm between them.

With the useless information she and Tahiri gathered, Jaina reported in to her uncle about their failed findings of Plinkett, Vestara, Mirta, and even the whereabouts of Ohali Soroc, Ferava, and Doran Sarkin-Tainer. The two Jedi then decided to leave Nar Shaddaa via their unmarked shuttle back for Shedu Maad.

.

At the knock of his door, Boba Fett, donned in his usual dented armor, headed for the door and peeked through the peephole to find his granddaughter, Mirta, standing there with three unfamiliar people behind her; a female human who barely looked like she was in her twenties, a fat human male who looked like he was in a cheap police costume, and someone who looked like he was a gorilla. In the background, he noted two strange ships; an eyeball-shaped vessel, and a car-shaped vessel.

Warily, Fett opened the door. "How was your trip to Tatooine, _ad'ika_?"

Mirta looked at her grandfather in confusion. "I didn't go to Tatooine, we were in the Chiloon Rift for a while, _ba'buir_. And since when did you decide to speak Mandalorian?"

"Just recently," Fett replied. "And just making sure you're really my granddaughter."

"Can't ever be too careful, huh?" the other woman remarked.

Fett looked at her. "And you are?"

"Vestara Khai, sir," the woman introduced herself. "This is Space Cop, and this Simon Taggert."

"I forgot to mention, _ba'buir_," Mirta interjected, "that after the Chiloon Rift, we spent some time on Nar Shaddaa."

"Doing what?"

Mirta grimaced. "You may not wanna know everything. But I'll try to let you know at least some of it."

"Sounds like you'll be giving me an interesting story," Fett said. "Come on in."

"Oh, before we do anything," Space Cop said, "Mirta, did you get yourself tested from the night at the orgy?"

Everyone fell silent, and Fett's stare managed to pierce Mirta's soul even behind his featureless helmet.

"Why are we staying in this galaxy again?" Taggert asked Space Cop in a whisper.

"I don't know," Space Cop replied in just the same tone.

"How 'bout you tell me everything, _ad'ika_?" Fett then ushered them inside.

.

A quarter of their way back to Shedu Maad, Jaina, seated in the shuttle's pilot seat, and Tahiri, seated in the copilot seat, heard a noise come from their ship's passenger cabin.

The two Jedi looked at each other with concern.

"I'll check it out," Tahiri said, unstrapping herself from her seat and heading back to the other cabin.

Moments later, Tahiri screamed, and Jaina hurriedly unstrapped herself from the pilot seat to check out what happened. When she arrived, however, she saw no trace of Tahiri.

The next thing she knew, though, she was wrapped up from behind by two meaty arms and her mouth was instantly covered in a cloth doused in chloroform. Her captor was too strong and too heavy to be outmaneuvered, and she had no chance of reaching her lightsaber; and before she could even think of using the Force, Jaina felt the effects of the choloform already taking effect.

"Come with me," the low bass voice said from behind, "and you'll be... in a... wooorld of pure imagination..."

At that, Jaina fell unconscious.

When she next awoke an indeterminate amount of time later, she found herself in a dimly lit dingy basement, seated on the cold dusty metal floor with her hands cuffed behind her on a metal pipe. Next to her, Tahiri looked at her in fear; nearby, an ysalamari was lounging on a potted olbio tree atop a wooden desk, preventing the both of them from using the Force.

The final feature of the dirty room was the old fat human man in the center before them.

"Now you will know my pain," the man said as he held up three rectangular boxes, all of which had illustrations on them. The words there read, _Star Wars: Episode I: The Phantom Menace_, _Star Wars: Episode II: Attack of the Clones_, and _Star Wars: Episode III: Revenge of the Sith_ respectively.


End file.
